


Just Between You and Me

by kyaappucino



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: (for one scene...huhu), Angel Dust & Cherri Bomb Friendship (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Baking, Blood, Breathplay, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I really torture a lot of ocs, Implied sexual assault (Val/Angel Dust), It's all about the YEARNING, Light BDSM, M/M, Mention of recreational drug use, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Past Drug Use, Poetry, Sex Worker Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Slow Burn, bit of angst, cannibal cookbooks, cooking venison, demisexual OC, there's also hannibal references here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaappucino/pseuds/kyaappucino
Summary: A (reluctant) love story between Alastor and Angel Dust. They meet in the hotel library on a rainy day and get to know each other. Alastor initially arrived to search for a recipe perfect for some venison, but stayed when he discovered Angel Dust read poetry. Their feelings for each other develop, and eventually, Alastor asks Angel Dust to eat dinner with him.Love is a persistent creature, after all. Even in hell.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Male Character(s), Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Cherri Bomb/Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel), Implied Niffty & Husk
Comments: 44
Kudos: 198





	1. Just Between You and Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purpjools](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpjools/gifts).



> Happy holidays! I bring you a murderous deer demon, venison, and slow-build Radiodust fluff for the season. (Very late) Gift for purpjools, whose work and words have inspired me to make my own outline, and consequently, this fic. There's a lot of food talk here, and eating. Slow set-up but I make up for it afterward, I promise ;w; ~
> 
> Expanded explanation for the additional tags:  
> cannibalism (book titles, al eating venison), violence (not too graphic), blood (rain and otherwise), implied sexual assault, no smut but the rating is M because of the themes this story tackles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making a deal, Alastor receives a tender cut of venison and adds a new meat shop to his territory. He wants to know how to best enjoy this rare delicacy and thinks the hotel library might have the perfect recipe to inspire him.
> 
> He expects the library to be empty, but instead finds Angel Dust curled up on the window seat, reading. What in the seven circles was he doing there, and during a rainy day, no less?
> 
> Or: the one where Al and Angel slowly get to know each other during rainy days and try their best not to fall in love. (they fail.)
> 
> Slow build, bit of angst, and lots of fluff.

Alastor glanced at his pocket watch. One minute to go and she _still_ wasn't here. He was certain he had the right place, and her name. Instead, Alastor was looking at a tall fox demon, wearing an all-white uniform to match the butcher shop. "And you are certain you can't accommodate my order...?" He glanced down, looking for a nametag. "...Cianti?"

  
The fox turned his snout up at the Radio Demon in reply, scouring the shelves until he found a suitable knife. Cianti pulled a thick cut of beef from behind the glass panel and started to slice it into even pieces. 

  
"Rules are rules, sir. Juliet was handling your order personally and understands your...unique preferences best. As she isn't here, the order can't be filled right away..." The demon was older than Alastor and held his own against the crackling static, confidence wrapped around the fox demon like a silk robe. In a way, if Cianti hadn't had such an elegant way of separating the beef's silverskin, Alastor would've bitten his left paw. 

  
"Pity. I was looking forward to sampling high quality meat without having to get it myself." The fox demon gave him a neutral smile as he wrapped the meat in butcher paper, his nine tails fanned out with pride. "You could reschedule," Cianti said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "After the unholy holidays. We do accept a small number of orders to ensure the meat we hunt is...up to par."

The Radio Demon's smile was as wide as ever, but a sharp cut of static betrayed his annoyance. It was bad enough that Carne et Vino required _reservations_ , and Alastor had booked a slot a week in advance. He'd rather accept Charlie's asinine redemption plan than give up and reschedule. 

"Mmm...no, I don't think so. Time is money, my good fellow, and we've wasted a considerable amount of both. If Juliet isn't here, then..." his words trailed off when the fox butcher put down his knife and looked down at him, an angry glint in his eyes.

 _Ah, so he does have a button to push._ Alastor was thinking of how quickly his tentacles could pull those fox tails apart when the glass doors of the shop swung open.

 _Clang!_ The brass bell above the doors announced a visitor's arrival. A sheep demon strode in, breathing hard. Her eyes were black, and her mouth was set in a grim line. Alastor noted the cloak she wore was covered in red splotches, but it was the scent that soothed his nerves. She carried the freshest venison, one acquired Topside. His annoyance began to fade, bit by bit.

  
"Juliet, Alastor's Huntress, reporting for duty. Forgive me for being a little tardy, Cianti." she said as she removed her bloodstained cloak and set it aside. "Today's meat was a little difficult to source." 

"Well, now that Juliet is here--I believe my order can be filled?" The fox demon's eyes narrowed but Cianti nodded, his many tails folding back into one. Juliet held her ground even as he brushed past her, the tip of his claws grazing her shirtsleeves. 

"Asshole," Juliet murmured before she turned to Alastor. "I would have shown up earlier, but..."

"No need to worry yourself, dear," Alastor said quickly. "Things happen. Were you able to get it for me?" The sheep demon reached for her cloak again and pulled out a wrapped package so fresh, Alastor could've sworn he smelled acorns, fruit, and berries. 

"Yes." She unwrapped it with agonizing slowness, revealing a perfect cut of tender venison. Enough for two meals, and then some. Alastor leaned in closer and inspected the meat, reveling in the scent of sweet, innocent doe. He felt his teeth elongate, and his antlers grew a few notches, gleaming under the butcher shop's lights.

 _No, not yet._ Alastor swallowed his saliva and grinned, unnervingly charming. He was waiting for her to say something. Juliet took a deep breath and tried not to succumb to sheer terror. "Here she is. The descent was more trouble than clawing my way up. Is...it enough?"

"Oh, my darling..." Alastor crooned, his claws lightly tracing over a corner of the venison's butcher paper. "Truly above and beyond. This will do..." his voice started to sound garbled and absolutely ravenous, the pupils of his eyes twisting into radio dials. The brambles on his head sharpened and elongated even _further_ , now--they were close enough to pierce Juliet, if Alastor had chosen to lean down just a smidge. "excellently." 

Juliet wondered if the Overlord would grab the venison and kill her where she stood. Rosie had said the Radio Demon was the type to hold up his end of the deal, if she came through in spades...but this **was** hell after all. 

"Y...yes. She was alone, in the woods..a-and slain..." the corners of her eyes pooled with tears. She was a demon, a huntress, and a butcher--even so, Juliet was still a herbivore. "...in her most..." she couldn't finish the words, but the Radio Demon chuckled as he withdrew, assuming his usual dapper state. "Reproductive prime. The rarest of delicacies, procured and delivered. You truly were worth waiting for, Juliet." 

She tried to steady her trembling fingers as she rewrapped the venison tight in butcher paper, tied it with twine, and placed it in a bag. As Alastor took the bag from her, his hand glowed with neon-green energy. "It's a deal, then. Thank you for your efforts...and enjoy your new shop."

"No, no...thank _you_ ," the sheep demon said, her body relaxing as the Radio Demon walked away, a tentacle thoughtfully closing the door behind him. In the back room, Cianti had been butchering a cow, blissfully unaware of the red-tinged chaos behind him. 

He heard the laughter much too late. The fox demon's eyes widened, and his mouth opened to scream, but only an anguished gurgle escaped his lips as a tentacle shoved itself deep into his throat.

Juliet still heard it; the sounds of flesh being torn apart and the crackling of radio static. Then there was silence, and the iron-thick stench of blood. It was done quickly, as she requested. The sheep demon rolled up her left sleeve and there, inside her wrist, was all the proof she needed. The brand--the fox's bruising grip on her wrist--was gone. In its place was a bright red x, in the center of her vein.

"Best deal I ever made since I dropped down here."

Outside, Carne et Vino's white paint began to slip away from the building, into the gutter. Replacing it were shades of crimson and dark red, with a familiar sigil on the door. Alastor did have a new favorite meat shop, after all. It was only right to clothe it in his colors.

As if in agreement, the sky rumbled, and maroon-colored clouds began to roll in. 

* * *

The Radio Demon walked with a spring in his step, shoes clicking on the sidewalk as various demons did their best not to walk past him, or even look at him. It was a wondrous feeling, to be satisfied after a deal. His stomach (and tentacles) was contented, and he had a brand-new meat shop to add to his territory. 

_"Now...how to consume this treat..."_ Alastor mentally rifled through the various styles of cooking venison as he walked, the smell of the approaching rain calming his excited nerves.

There was the standard way of grilling, pan-frying, or smoking this delicacy. He had all of his tools stashed in the bayou cabin, and recently obtained a slow cooker from Lucifer Magne. Cut it, perhaps, into sizable pieces? Ration the venison for later? The Overlord shook his head as he walked. It seemed a little uncouth to treat such rare meat like any old ground beef.

He was unaware of the _loudness_ of his indecision, manifesting as the sound of a radio flipping through several channels in rapid succession. As much as possible, Alastor wanted to use the meat and transform it into a dish worthy of its death. 

The gentle pitter-patter of rain coaxed the Radio Demon out of his thoughts as fat red droplets landed on his head, his face, and his clothing. With a wave of his hand, Alastor brought an umbrella into existence, opened it, and turned left--he'd almost missed the turn toward the hotel.

 _"Hmm, yes, maybe I'll find an idea there,"_ Alastor thought, holding the bag close to his body to shield it from the rain. While the building holding Charlie's passion project had definitely seen better days, Niffty had reported seeing a rather extensive library...and they had gotten to work repairing that room in particular. Perhaps one of the cookbooks could give him some much-needed inspiration.

* * *

  
Angel Dust preferred to stay indoors during rainy days, as walking outside meant getting his boots _and_ fur wet. In any case, it was much harder to find customers tall (or willing) enough to share their umbrella. The spider stared listlessly at the pouring rain from his room at the hotel, upper hands resting on the railing while his lower set attempted to shield his cigarette from the wind and rain. Pentagram City was covered in a veil of light red rain, the smell of blood mixing with petrichor. 

"Man," he murmured to no one in particular. "who the hell made bloodstorms anyway?" The last time he'd tried to run under the rain, his fur was stained and no matter how hard he'd scrubbed, Angel Dust still smelled like pennies. Terribly strong no matter what perfume was applied onto his fur. Reluctantly, Val called off the shoot and the spider hadn't gotten paid that day. 

He couldn't even ask anyone to drive him to the studio. Today was his day off, so enjoying himself in the sensation of getting laid on set was off the table. (Though, if he were being honest, enjoy was such a strong word. He hadn't fully enjoyed work in fifty years.) 

Angel Dust lifted the cigarette to his lips, relishing in the calmness settling on his fur as he took a deep breath. He could indulge in this at least, since the rain covered the smell of smoke. The porn star stretched his arms, shirt riding up and revealing a strip of skin for nobody. 

He'd also been off drugs for a while, after Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor negotiated with Valentino and Vox. Angel heard that the princess had thrown her father's name around, and she only did _that_ as a last resort. Afterward, Val stopped offering and Angel found that working without different substances numbing his mind and body was a strange experience. He couldn't be manipulated like a boneless ragdoll and he _understood_ what was happening to him.

 _"Christ. The first few days made me wish I still had some pcp."_ The porn star shivered as the memory returned, blowing a plume of pink-tinted smoke into the air.

Since drugs and sex were out of the question, that left alcohol. Occasionally, he got some from Husker, but even _that_ was strictly regulated...though there were rare moments when he was treated to a shot of the top-shelf stuff Al usually ordered to go with his fancy meat.

More than once, Angel Dust's sticky fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle of vodka behind Husker's bar, but it was the cheap swill that tasted about as good as gasoline. He crushed his cigarette and tossed it over the railing. That left his last hobby, one that not even Cherri knew about.

The spider walked toward his bookshelf and removed a stack of porn DVDs, revealing a small collection of books behind them. Angel grabbed a paperback with the title "The Flowers of Evil." In between the pages was a condom packet, used as a makeshift bookmark. Maybe he could finally finish the damn thing in the library.

* * *

  
Unlike the rest of the hotel, the library was spotless and somewhat presentable, thanks to Niffty's cleaning and Alastor's connections with various library demons. Banned books from the living realm, demonic tomes, and a smattering of other titles lined the shelves. He expected to find it empty. Or at the very least, he'd bump into Charlie or Vaggie, attempting to pull the more sordid titles off the shelves and replacing them with _happier_ books.

But there was a different presence in the room. 

"He..." The transatlantic radio host voice deflated as quickly as it had come. "...llo..."

As far as Alastor was concerned, Angel Dust was a man who indulged in activities that brought him closer to carnal pleasure: sex, drugs, and alcohol. So the last thing he expected was to find the porn star in the library, of all places. 

The spider was curled up on the window seat ( _My seat,_ Alastor thought), a book balanced on his lap. Angel didn't even look up, too engrossed in what he was reading. His upper hand flipped a page delicately. Behind Angel, the rain continued to pour, creating a calming backdrop to an otherwise normal day in hell. 

Angel Dust wasn't being loud and overbearing, and from where Alastor was standing, the light red tinge of rain actually made him look...lovelier? Hm. Maybe he really just liked it when the spider was silent. With a shake of his head, the Radio Demon turned away and focused his attention onto a shelf with "Recipe Books, Cannibals - Vegans" written on the brass plaque. 

He adjusted his monocle and glanced at the shelves. "The Cannibal's Guide to a Meat Galaxy...Skin, Blood, Brains...Unraveling the Mystery of Long Pork...Feeding Hannibal: A Connoisseur's Cookbook...need to check that one out sometime...oh, this looks interesting." Alastor reached for a book titled "Römertopf: Recipes for the Patient Cannibal." It was a fairly slim volume and seemed to be about slow-roasting meat. 

Alastor had just made it a few steps to the window seat when Angel Dust waved, his smile revealing a shiny gold tooth. "Hiya, Smiles. Glad t'know I wasn't just imaginin' shit." "Hello, Angel. Don't you usually have an appointment with gentleman callers at this time?" 

"Nah," the spider said, marking his place in the book with what looked like a condom packet. "Today's my day off. Thought I'd get a bit of readin' done." 

"Raunchy erotic filth, I presume?" Alastor asked as he sat on one of the plush armchairs across the window seat. "Poetry, actually. I'll be sure to read it to ya if I find something really dirty though." 

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes. "I never thought that would be your genre of choice." Angel Dust preened a little, lower arms balancing the book as his upper ones arranged his chest fluff. "Occasionally I had a john who wanted t'talk before we fucked. A few of 'em were poets. Got me into Yeats, Baudelaire, Neruda...one of 'em didn't even wanna do anything, just wanted me to read. Now, if _you_ wanted me to give you a de--" 

"No thank you," Alastor said smoothly. "Just came to pick up a few recipes for dinner." He thumbed through the book and took note of the clay pot being used. 

_"Ah. I've heard about wrapping food in clay and letting it roast...maybe getting a clay dish would be less work. Wouldn't have to wrap the meat in anything, besides."_

Maybe the unique taste of venison would still be preserved instead of drowning it using sauces and other things. A recipe that didn't require a lot of fresh herbs would've been best--they usually shriveled whenever he touched them with his claws. 

As he was considering which red wine would pair best with the venison, he heard Angel talking to himself, it seemed like. "And plunge your whole being into...En...nui? Ennui's abyss..." Angel's tongue had peeked out of the corner of his mouth, brows furrowed as he mulled over how to say the word.

A part of Alastor just wanted to correct him, but a bigger part just wanted to watch. The Radio Demon was loathe to admit it, but the entire thing was cute. How determined the spider was to get it right--even, at one point, entering certain words onto his phone to hear the correct pronunciation.

It was a thought he didn't want to examine more closely than necessary. Quickly, he averted his eyes toward the cover of Angel Dust's book.

 _"Baudelaire..."_ He'd had a copy of the Flowers of Evil once, during his mortal life as a radio host. More often than not, he received letters from fans asking him to read more of it. 'You have a voice that's like chocolate for the ears.' Alastor had rolled his eyes, but ratings were ratings. 

While Angel Dust's voice was definitely _not_ chocolate, he could appreciate it still. It was more like warm honey, though Alastor would rather drink holy water than openly admit it. The porn star had a lovely voice when it was most _natural_ , in his opinion. What would it be like, to have that voice fully recite a poem, or read a life-threatening thriller out loud?

Well. Only one way to find out.

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"Would you read to me?" 

A raised eyebrow and a frown grace Angel Dust's face, waiting for some punchline. Alastor remains quiet, hands clutching his book a little too tightly. "I... think yer betta suited t'read poetry than me, Smiles. I just...sound out words I have trouble pronouncin'."

"I didn't mean for it to sound...well, mean," Alastor says, a little embarrassed. "Just wanted to know what your favorite poem was from Les...The Flowers of Evil." 

"You know this one?" 

"I've only gleaned the French version, but yes--I'm familiar with the works of Baudelaire." 

Angel Dust's lower arm patted the space next to him on the window seat. "I'll read to ya if you c'mere." 

The Radio Demon pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Must you ruin such a good moment...?" 

"Aw, come on, Al. Sit next to me while I read? I'll keep most of my hands to myself, I swear." Angel Dust promising not to touch _anyone_ was a stretch of the imagination, honestly. He privately thought it was because the porn star expressed affection in that manner, or it was a byproduct of his days as a sex worker. 

However, Alastor had to admit--he had been very good at keeping up with the five-foot rule. He'd only had to establish that boundary once, and after that, Angel would always ask. It was something he was thankful for, especially in hell. Prior to their meeting in the library, Angel's hand would hover for a few seconds over Al's shoulder. The Radio Demon would nod minutely and the hand would gently touch, then quickly draw away. In return, he allowed Angel Dust a few bawdy quips--even went as far as to share some of the liquor he reserved for special evenings. 

" _All of them._ Promise me, Angel." The spider nodded, sensing this was important, somehow, to the Radio Demon. He could commiserate--Lucifer himself knew how strongly Angel Dust felt about consent. "Fine, all of 'em. Cross my lil spider heart. I'll even swear it on my mama's grave."

In reply, the Radio Demon stood and left his shadow seated on the armchair. It continued flipping through the book, occasionally scribbling notes on a pad nearby. Alastor walked over to the window seat and sat next to Angel Dust but left a small space between them. He almost missed the small glint of hurt that crossed the porn star's face, but Angel Dust said nothing and merely flipped the book to a certain page.

"Come to my heart, y'tiger I adore.

Ya sullen monster, cruel and speechless spirit;

Into th' thickness of yer heavy mane

I want to plunge my trembling fingers’ grip..."

Alastor grabbed a pillow and placed it on his lap. His voice was soothing, especially against the backdrop of rain. There was something genuine and charming about it, when it wasn't layered with dirty talk and forced seductive tones. For a moment, he closed his eyes and soaked in Angel Dust's voice reading aloud. 

He doesn't notice his hand cross the space between them, resting on the upholstery. To Angel Dust's credit, he also doesn't notice his third set of arms coming out, his left one resting next to Alastor's, their index fingers so close to touching, but not quite. 

The rain was calming, and though he normally didn't enjoy reading aloud, Angel Dust found that seeing the Radio Demon's relaxed face was _pretty._ After reading "Lethe," and receiving warm applause from Alastor, the porn star's cheeks flushed, along with the rest of his body. "Um...do you want me to read this one next? It's called 'The Possessed.'" 

"Hm?" The Radio Demon moved a little closer. "I don't believe I've heard that one..." Angel Dust lowered the book and Alastor leaned his head to take a closer look. "Oh, please do--I always did wonder why Baudelaire wrote 'Beelzebub' at the end..." 

At one point, Al's left leg touched Angel Dust's right one, but the Radio Demon didn't shrink away. Angel Dust wasn't about to ruin the mood, and let it be--though he prayed his voice sounded calmer than his heart, which pounded incessantly in his ribcage. 

Their sole witness, Alastor's shadow, chittered from its perch on the armchair. It thought, privately, _"Well. That didn't take long at all."_

* * *

  
The Radio Demon walked around one of the dusty morning markets, looking for a clay dish that closely resembled the one mentioned in the Römertopf. It took awhile, but he did locate it, in the end. One of the demons that owned the stall overheard him talking about the dish and had said excitedly, "I can create one for you, sir. My mother cooked with one of those, when I was still alive..."

The Radio Demon nodded. "Much obliged...I just have one more question." Alastor picked up a hairpin shaped like a chrysanthemum, with delicate pearls on the end. "Does this come in red?" Perhaps he would gift it to Angel Dust during their next rainy day together. 

...

Alastor paused for a moment before ordering hairpins for Niffty, Charlie, and Vaggie. They could be a set. Indeed. Only one would be red, of course. The lovers could have theirs in complementary colors. Niffty, the ever-reliable darling, would have hers in yellow. When he would give them, the trinkets was another consideration altogether.

It felt like he was going mad.

The shop owner graciously ignored how a line of radio static leaked out of Alastor, sounding panicked. A sale was a sale, and he rarely received a customer who was interested in cooking with clay. 

On his way back to the hotel, Alastor noticed a new bakery advertising beignets. Tempting, but...no. His hands were already full as they were, and the Radio Demon only ever enjoyed them during rainy days. He tried not to think of the possibility that Angel Dust, who loved sweets, would enjoy them as much as he did. 

Maybe for another time...

* * *

  
The next rainy day occurred precisely a week after Angel Dust met Alastor in the library.

**Thanks for today, Angel. You were simply divine.**   
**I know you said no to dinner, but a little bird told me you liked them. No charge.**   
**\- Johnny**

The porn star had wrapped a soft pink robe around his body and retired to his dressing room after a day of filming. There, he discovered the gift and the note from one of his johns from today's shoot. Angel Dust lifted a bundle of dark-red flowers from the box and smelled it. 

"Well, whaddya know...Topside hibiscus? Ya sure know how to spoil a guy..." He'd only had it once--after an evening with Stolas. Not that it had actually involved any _action_ , but it was always more refreshing to listen to the owl gush about an imp while drinking exotic tea from expensive china.

Working for Val was a drag 90% of the time, but little things like this made it worthwhile. Angel slipped it into his purse before Valentino, Vox, or Velvet walked in. Idly, the spider wondered if a certain antlered Overlord would want to taste some of it.

 _"Careful, ya don't wanna get hurt again too fast, Angie."_ he thought to himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His feelings didn't have to go anywhere. Angel Dust was a professional; he could enjoy some quality time with a hotel patron-- _the co-owner_ , his mind helpfully supplied--without it having to mean anything. 

This could be the start of a sweet, budding friendship. As long as the tea didn't expire before he had the chance to meet the Radio Demon again. 

Angel Dust peeked at his Weather app, then searched for the expiration date of blooming hibiscus tea. If it was too close, he could always just drink it with Cherri or Charlie. His traitorous heart, however, leapt when the app predicted the next bloodstorm would happen next week.

It really wasn't his fault.

Bad men were just so _suave._

They always were, in the beginning. Angel Dust recalled a time when he would've been happy to work for Val in the morning, then with him at night. Right now, though--he just wanted to pay his boss and make a hasty exit. Whenever he could. 

That was when he heard the sharp knocking outside his changing room's door.

"Angel, where are ya? Daddy wants some sugar." 

Like now. Angel Dust closed his purse and hung it securely on the purse hook beneath his vanity before reaching for the knob. "Right here, Daddy..." he said, void of any emotion. He really wished it was Alastor instead, on the other side. 

A small consolation today: when Val pushed his face a little too close for Angel Dust's liking, he smelled rain. In truth, it could've been one of Valentino's expensive perfumes. But he preferred to think Valentino had been caught in the rain--and besides, it reminded him of Alastor. 

"Where's Vox, Daddy?" Angel asks, his voice unnaturally small. "Out walkin' his shark. Said that the fuckin' thing's more important than _me_ , so I socked his screen. You won't leave me, will you, Angelcakes? You know how **lonely** Daddy gets without you..." 

The familiar words caused Angel's stomach to churn and he gave a full-body shudder, which Val misinterpreted. Angel Dust fully believed his boss knew what it really was. The porn star just refused to think of himself as a victim. This was a business transaction--nothing more, nothing less. 

Angel tried not to flinch as the pimp carefully dipped one of his long fingers into the porn star's chest fluff, the fur there soft and downy. Not even bothering to ask for permission. Valentino never really did. Still, he let out a soft gasp, mainly because the fur there was so sensitive--and after fifty years, his pimp knew how to coax certain reactions from his body.

He hated it. 

Even if his mind completely _doesn't want_ this side of Valentino, his body was still as responsive as ever. Just reacting to the gentleness that was fabricated to give Val what he wanted. Utterly disgusting, and Angel knew that if he wasn't this man's property, he would've tried to get out. 

By any means necessary.

"...you know I can't leave ya permanently, Daddy. Y'own my contract." He said simply, and the acknowledgement of how much power he had over Angel caused the moth's breath to hitch. Angel instantly felt worse for saying so.   
  
Maybe one day he could trade one bad deal for another. An upgrade if one could call it that. Angel Dust thought fondly of rainy days and reading aloud with someone who thought he was more than just a pretty face, or an orifice to be filled. 

Facing the reality of things, right now, was just too difficult to bear. 

  
In the heat of the moment, they both miss Angel's antique radio slowly drifting into silence after playing a jazz cover of a familiar tune.

_Angel's smile is what you sell_   
_You promised him heaven_   
_Then put him through hell_

* * *

  
Inside Alastor's radio tower, the halls were silent as everyone scrambled to keep working. The Overlord of Hell's Radio Waves had clocked out early. 

"Just grabbing a quick snack from the Lust sector," he had explained to his secretary. 

"Not picking it up from Juliet?" 

"No, my darling Avery," He said, sharp feedback from his microphone betraying his emotions. Usually so well-corralled, they were rampaging like wild horses, over the voices he'd heard over Angel Dust's radio. 

"I've heard the Lust sector has plump and tender meat this time of the year."

As Alastor walked toward the Porn Studio, he thought about how much space his deep freezer could hold. He had been planning to roast the venison that very evening, but the conversation the deer demon overheard had him hungry for another type of meat altogether. 

He'd cook the venison before the month ended. There was still time. Magic was a useful thing to have, especially in hell. 

* * *

  
As it turned out, even Weather apps could be inaccurate. The app said it wouldn't rain at all today, so it had been business as usual--until one of the crew saw the dark clouds in the distance. Then everyone had been scrambling to get the footage filmed before it started. The software was really made by other demons, Vox had explained, and he just approved them for download. His screen looked new, and was inexplicably shiny. 

Angel Dust wanted to run all of his hands over the screen and fill them with fingerprints in places where Vox couldn't wipe clean by himself. Unfortunately, before he could do _anything_ , Valentino had started screaming.

"WHADDYA MEAN, 'SCOTT'S GONE’?" 

The last time he'd been that angry, Angel had seen the Porn Studio's rugs replaced thrice to accommodate all the bodily fluids. "He was...in the editin' room alone, Mista Valentino," one of the camera crew said, in near tears. Scott had been one of their lead cameramen and was responsible for making sure Angel and the other actors _always_ looked good, no matter what the angle.

"He said he'd catch up with us fer lunch, an...wh-when he never came back, we checked an'...this was all that was left of..." Angel Dust saw Scott's glasses being handed over. One of the lenses was missing, and the other had blood splatter all over them.

" _Motherfucker..._ " Valentino spat. "When I find the bozo who did this, they're gonna be eatin' through a _straw_." 

If that wasn't bad enough, there had been a bright flash of lightning that abruptly cut the Porn Studio's power. "When it rains..." the moth mumbled, face an unattractive shade of red. Vox had been quick to run to Valentino's side, comforting him by saying "I'm going to fire the demons who made this fuckin' weather app, love." 

It was gross, watching Valentino melodramatically whine as Vox comforted him and Velvet took photos. They would have to tighten security in the Studio and hire another lead cameraman.

Needless to say, Angel Dust got the rest of the day off. 

* * *

  
Safe and dry beneath his parasol, Angel Dust took his time walking from the Lust sector back to the hotel. The teabag was still inside his purse and with the disappearance of a crew member combined with the rain, the Lust Sector's streets had fewer demons around. 

"Text when you get to the hotel, 'kay?" Velvet had said. "Need t'make sure our star makes it back in time for filmin' t'morrow, yeah?" He'd nodded even if he knew the GPS on his company hellphone was always on anyway. Angel sent a text to Charlie and Vaggie, telling them he'd been given the day off and received at least five happy face and heart emojis from Charlie. 

Then his phone started ringing. "Hey Cha--"

"Angel! Make sure you're back before nightfall, okay? I wanted to ask Al if he'd pick you up, but he hasn't come back yet either. Should Vaggie come and get you?"

"Babe, I'm sure Angel will ask for help when he needs it..." For once, Angel agreed. If this was a life-or-death situation, he would have asked for Al or Vaggie to pick him up, no question. But _one_ camera crew member going missing in broad daylight? Not really anything to write home about. 

Still, the porn star appreciated her concern, even if she talked to him like he was a child. "I'll be fine, toots. Sidewalk and streets barely have anyone in 'em. Thanks, fer checkin' up on me though..."

Angel Dust had been so engrossed in his conversation, he didn't notice accidentally bumping into someone in front of a bakery, and their pastry box had fallen onto the sidewalk. "Oh shit, my bad, I'm so--" the spider knelt down to get the box using his second set of arms when suddenly, a familiar, red-tipped claw came into view.

"Yer lucky only the box dere was ruined, cher." Al said smoothly, his voice having none of the usual transatlantic accent. "What the fuck," Angel replied, smiling widely, his top left hand still holding his phone. "Say that again?" 

" _Non._ " amusement colored his voice. Al coughed before he spoke again. "These were supposed to be for us...and the girls." Alastor's shadow carried the umbrella for the deer demon as he passed a hand over the wet, red-colored spots on the box. Instead of drying up though, the entire box turned pink. "...close enough. Do you like beignets?"

"Beig--what?" In front of them was a bakeshop with a takeout window. It was a modest-sized storefront decorated in gold, red, and purple. There was a large brown doll with a pin through its' chest next to the store, which was the mascot, supposedly. Angel didn't know how a thing with red lips and lots of teeth could be considered _cute_ , but he supposed it was, in its' own way. **Voodoo Donuts** , the sign proclaimed. It was about as weird as the Radio Demon himself.

No wonder.

"I suppose others would call them...donuts." The transatlantic accent was back, but Angel wasn't one to give up so readily. "Nu-uh, bring it back, Smiles! Yer accent's real fine."

"So...you do not like beignets?" Alastor asked, ignoring his statement. Angel shook his head and chuckled. "Neva met a donut I didn't like. Val rarely let me have 'em..." A red-tipped claw quickly darted forward toward his lips. "Let's not dwell on a vile creature during a lovely rainstorm, shall we?" 

_"The hell am I gonna say to that?"_ The porn star nodded, smirked, and pressed a light kiss toward the Radio Demon's fingertip. He tasted salt and just the barest hint of blood, and Angel Dust's heart beat just a little bit faster.

Al quickly withdrew his hand and groaned, turning his back to Angel, static bleeding into his voice. "Nnhn.." He spoke to the demon manning the takeout window. "Two, please. And lots of powdered sugar. _Merci bien._ " 

" _Pas rien,_ Alastor. Glad t'hear sum'n still know the language down here." 

"I don' know much 'bout it, truthfully. Just some words ma used to say."

They walked together in silence, Al's umbrella occasionally brushing against Angel Dust's. The beignet reminded him of a pillow, soft and covered in a dusting of powdered sugar. He bit down and was met with a soft and flaky dough, sweetened with sugar and just a little hint of sin.

"Where we goin', Al?" Angel Dust asked his companion, who was also busy eating his beignet. "Why, to the hotel, of course. Everyone simply _must_ try sampling these beignets while it's cold out. Nuthin' quite like it, cher." 

"Are they gonna join us to read too?" Angel asked, lightly teasing. Silence and the falling rain followed his question, which made Angel feel a little worried. "Hey, that was j--"

"I'd prefer if that stayed just between us, Angel." Alastor said, wiping the side of his mouth with a handkerchief--which was also dotted with blood. 

"Ya read my mind, Smiles."  


* * *

  
"Thanks...Al. These are really adorable-looking...I think." They were in the hotel kitchen, and Charlie had opened the pink pastry box. Inside were six donuts shaped like dolls, all with a different expression (ranging from happy to horrified) and had pretzel sticks shoved in their chests. 

"And delicious! Especially with coffee." Alastor gestured toward the coffee pot in the corner of the kitchen. "Might I suggest a devilishly strong espresso?"

"Are these poisoned? These're poisoned, aren't they." Husk picked one up with one of his paws, peering at them curiously before taking a swig of his liquor bottle. "I picked them up at a bakery, I don't think they'd want to poison a customer." 

"They might not, but no one can really tell with ya, Al." 

He really couldn't argue with that. Charlie had taken one and split it in the middle with her girlfriend, looking appropriately horrified as the raspberry jam within oozed out. "So lifelike...this _is_ actual chocolate, right, Alastor?" 

"My dear, if I was going to serve someone dinner, I wouldn't start with dessert, I can assure you." 

When Angel Dust presented a glass pitcher full of bright pink liquid to the group, there were exclamations all around. He'd even added ice cubes. "Hibiscus tea. Got some flowers as a gift. Drink it or not, I don't care. It's pretty damn good iced, though."

"Ooh, so pretty!" Niffty was the first to take a sip, holding her glass with both hands. "You'd probably like it, Husky. Tastes like it'd go great with vodka. Or whatever you drink. Sorry, that was rude, wasn't it?"

There was a grunt of acknowledgement before Husk grabbed a glass and poured a shot of vodka in it. "Mm. Yer right, Niff. Can barely taste the stuff though--rather have it straight." 

It really was a nice feeling, Angel had to admit. Watching everyone around the table having fun and eating together. He observed Vaggie wiping some raspberry jam off the side of Charlie's mouth with a napkin, before the moth moved for a quick kiss. 

_"Wonder if I'll ever get to feel like that again?"_ He looked away for a moment and glanced across the table, lips wrapped around his straw. Angel Dust saw Alastor looking at him and offered a small smile. He was surprised when the deer demon did the same, grey skin flushing under the lights. 

For an Overlord, he sure could be real cute when he wanted to be. The recent development in their friendship made him embarrassed to think back on their initial introduction. Sharing a secret with someone like Al was definitely one of his favorite things about all this--even if he'd meant for the tea to be shared between the two of them. 

Unfortunately, the moment he arrived at the hotel with Alastor, things had just naturally progressed that way. The Radio Demon brought donuts and the porn star poured the tea. Alastor minutely cocked his head toward the doorway and pushed his empty plate forward. 

Angel Dust counted to ten before he did the same.

* * *

  
"I didn't see you eat any of the other donuts." Angel said amicably as they walked toward the elevator. They made a brief stop at Angel's room, where he picked up another book to read, and then to Alastor's room, where he returned with a thick book with the title _"The Brothers Karamazov."_

Whereas most would be nervous walking beside the Radio Demon, to Angel, it was a calming feeling, listening to their muted footsteps echo throughout the carpeted hallway. "Too much sweets spoils dinner," Alastor explained as the elevator doors slid shut. 

"Dinner? I thought we was gonna read, Smiles." 

"We are, my effeminate fellow. After dinner." 

Alastor pushed open the heavy wooden doors and Angel Dust almost dropped his book. The curtains were open, revealing the impressive hotel windows, tinted a light pink with the rain. Two of the plush armchairs were between a table, set for two. One of Alastor's shadows placed a bouquet of red and black roses in a vase, while another lit the ornate fireplace, adding a depth of warmth into the room. 

"We're eating in the library?" 

Alastor nodded. "Yes. Seems apropos to dine where we first got to know each other, wouldn't you say?" 

"Yeah but...I wasn't able to bring anythin' for ya." 

The Radio Demon shrugged and pulled out one of the chairs for Angel. "We're going to read, and you'll be doing me a favor by helping me finish some venison. Isn't that a fair trade?"

It was a really nice table setup, and Angel hadn't eaten a full meal since breakfast. "I guess so. Thanks, Al." There was a rectangular clay dish in between the two plates, where a roast of some kind waited. He took a quick look inside and it really was fragrant--the warm smells of onions, garlic, and dried rosemary came to greet him. Whatever was in this dish, it was cooked and presented with a lot of heart--one Angel had only glimpsed when Alastor made them all some jambalaya.

Alastor poured them some chilled wine and began to eat. "Ah, perfection. I'm so glad I chose this specific meat shop." 

"We're eatin' _real_ venison? Not some creep you picked off the streets?" Angel Dust asked, slicing into his piece of venison--and, Alastor noted, more onions and garlic. "Yes. Though if you want to sample anyone, just say the word, my dear."

The spider peered at it with some suspicion before taking a bite. "Damn. I can almost imagine it runnin' across the forest." Alastor's crimson eyes looked like crescents, with how pleased he looked. "As did I... Juliet might be my new favorite butcher. This," he said, gesturing to the meat with his knife, "was why I went down here...meat this tender deserved little more than some salt and pepper on a grill." 

"Hey, don't knock grillin' til ya try it, babe. Have ya ever had baby back ribs fresh off of th' grill? Life changing." 

"I never expected you'd like to eat the back ribs of a baby, but duly noted." Angel Dust took a sip of wine and cut up another bite of venison, brandishing it toward Alastor. "My, my...is the great Radio Demon flirtin' with lil' ol' me?" 

Instead of taking the meat on Angel Dust's fork, the Radio Demon leaned forward and ate the piece of venison that remained on the spider's plate, licking his lips. " _Now_ I am." 

"I think there was somethin' in those beignets, sugar. Makin' you talk this way." There was a clink of Alastor's knife against his own plate. "That, or it was cooking meat from the Lust sector before I got the beignets, cher."

 _"Or I'm just being much too friendly."_ Alastor's mind helpfully supplied. Perhaps he wouldn't give up the hairpin in his pocket tonight.

Angel Dust chuckled and decided to throw all caution to the wind. He was already here, eating dinner with the feared Radio Demon, who attempted to flirt with him. Might as well. 

"Were ya the one who made Scott disappear today?" 

"If I told you the truth, would you tell Valentino?" Confidence exuded from his very stature. Alastor sipped his wine and smiled, his yellow teeth adding to the strange charm, terror, and arousal that made Angel Dust's blood flow quicker in his veins. "Nah. I may work for the man, Al. But I don't care 'bout 'im. Not anymore."

"But...?" 

Angel Dust put his knife down mid-chew. "If...Daddy were to ask me not t'lie, I don't have much of a chance resistin' it, Smiles."

"Then I shall leave it to your imagination, darling." He did, however, pull out the same pocket square dotted with blood. Just to make a point, Angel was sure. More meat was taken from the clay dish and onto the Radio Demon's plate, and neatly cut. Much too neatly if Angel was being honest. "Would you like some more venison?"

"Please." 

"Get it yourself." 

"Rude." Angel Dust sniffed, pouting. Alastor smiled and pointed at Angel Dust's plate. "Give it here, then."

It was one of the more pleasant dinners Angel Dust had. The rain softly falling in the backdrop, the crackling of the fireplace, and the clinking of their knives and forks was soothing, almost weirdly so. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

But it never came. When they finished their meal, Angel Dust watched as Alastor's shadows arrived and disposed of any leftovers, then the china, then the entire table. "Al?"

"Yes, Angel?" 

"This is fuckin' weird." 

"Sorry, dear. I'll reel it back a notch. Reading time?"

Angel Dust felt unnaturally warm as he watched Alastor extend his hand toward him. 

"No voodoo shit."

"None," The Radio Demon said easily.

" _Promise me,_ Al." 

"I swear on my little stag heart. And hope to die. Twice." 

Well, wasn't that something, coming from an Overlord? One who had disposed of a staff member to give Angel a break, no less. The strings on Angel Dust's heart were trembling again. It was just one dinner. Just one poetry reading. Maybe this was just how the Radio Demon wanted to ease his guilt (did he have any?) or showed any appreciation for reading to him. 

He wasn't even sure if Al was willing to protect him beyond just being the hotel's poster boy. 

_"But still..."_

Bad men were just so _suave_ , and his mother always said: "I hope you find someone who can protect you from the bad men, Anthony."

 _"But ma,"_ Angel thought as he took Alastor's hand. _"what if I keep runnin' after the bad men?"_

* * *

  
The window seat was more comfortable after Angel added more pillows onto his side. Alastor was seated beside him, book propped up onto a lap desk he'd magicked out of nowhere, most likely. "Who did you bring this time, Angel?"

"Neruda." 

"I don't believe I've heard of them. What's your favorite verse?" Alastor asked as he turned another page. 

"Hmm...that'd have ta be Sonnet XVII." Angel Dust took his book and opened it, flipping to a page marked with a $100 Lucifer bill. "Oh, I wondered where this went..." The spider tucked the bill into his chest fluff and started reading. He could've read it with his usual voice, but somehow, he wanted to make this specific poem _count._ Maybe it was because he really liked it.

Maybe it was because it held all the words Angel truly wanted to say. 

_"But it's much too early,"_ Angel Dust's mind rationalized. _"It's just a poem. Just your favorite."_

Of course.

"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,   
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.  
I..." Angel Dust trailed off, which caused Alastor to look up from his book. "Anything wrong, Angel?" 

"...no. It's fine, Al. Just the next bit that surprised me. I've read this a million times before, but...guess I just never really absorbed the meanin'." Angel Dust, heart in his throat, continued.

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,   
in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

When there was no reply from the Radio Demon, Angel Dust just continued reading, as he didn't know what else to do. 

"I love you as the plant that never blooms   
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;   
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,   
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body." 

At this bit, the porn star looked up to check if Alastor was still reading.

He wasn't.

Instead of reading, the deer demon had turned his head toward the window and was watching the rain fall. "Gorgeous words, dere, cher." He'd slipped into his accent again, and Angel nodded. "Yer accent's slidin' out some, babe."

"Mm. Thought ya liked it when I wasn' talkin' like my usual." 

Angel Dust put his book down and placed it safely on the window seat's end table. "Yea, I wasn' lyin' when I said it was mighty fine. Where were you from?"

"Down South. Louisiana, if you couldn't tell. Had t'change it up for the radio." The spider moved a little closer to the deer before placing his top hand above Alastor's. "Is this okay?"

The Radio Demon blinked and looked down at Angel's hand. 

"Yeah."

 _"What am I doing...?"_ Alastor thought as his mind reeled a little. He wasn't really sure. All he really knew was dinner had been nice, and so had most of his other interactions with Angel. He'd hung and quartered one of Valentino's staff after he'd heard what Angel's boss had done to him over the radio. 

There _was_ something there. He'd never known himself to just run out of the radio tower without a second thought. His hand felt warm enveloped within Angel Dust's, and somehow that was what the world had shrunk to, right now.

Just a bit of peace carved inside a library, for two very unlikely demons. The feeling of Angel Dust's manicured claw gently running over his own leather gloved one was very pleasant. Alastor was about to say something when Angel Dust yawned, his lower set of arms bringing him some more pillows. Then with great reluctance, the porn star slowly let go of Alastor's hand. He moved back toward the corner of the window seat and curled up. "Wake me when it stops rainin', will ya Smiles?"

The Radio Demon nodded, though in truth he just wanted to hold onto Angel's hand just a little bit longer. "Sure thing, cher. I'll wake ya when it's time." He picked up _The Brothers Karamazov_ and continued reading. For a long while, his world was compressed into the sound of Angel Dust's snoring, the crackling of the fireplace, and the pitter-pattering rain. 

For the first time in his long unlife, Alastor wished it were possible to record this moment and seal it in vinyl, for keeps. (His microphone chirped helpfully, having been kept away into a small pin by Alastor's lapel. Al looked at it strangely, as if he'd forgotten the breadth and depth of his sound-based powers.) 

Eventually, he did summon it and recorded the entire thing. Just a souvenir of their time together. There was an unknown pang of pain, and a weird fluttering sensation in his chest, when he thought the moment had to end sometime.

Alastor had just gotten to the part where Alyosha followed Zosima back to his cell when he also felt the pull of sleep. He marked his place with a piece of black ribbon and, against his better judgment, snapped his fingers. A large, warm blanket appeared, the perfect size to cover them both. 

The Radio Demon moved a bit closer to Angel Dust and got comfortable. He murmured, "You are quite fascinating, Angel Dust." 

What he doesn't say: _"I think I might develop feelings for you, if we continue on like this."_ Alastor gently pulled out the hairpin from his pocket and placed it on top of Angel Dust's book.

What they both miss: the rain stopping. A shadow with pitchfork antlers grabs a record and flips it while another pulls down the needle. The sound of rain continues from a phonograph in the corner, even as the windows around Alastor and Angel Dust remain tinted a light red.

* * *

  
Angel Dust opened his eyes first and felt a strange weight on his chest. He looked down and saw the pitchfork antlers. Alastor had also fallen asleep but was curled up against his chest. On top of them both was a large, comfortable blanket.

The porn star tried to move carefully, not wanting to wake the Radio Demon. He still heard rain and looked out the window, perplexed. The sky had cleared up, but the window still retained the red tint from the rain. He gently maneuvered Al, so he was still sleeping on him, but Angel was able to take a closer look in the room. 

"Well...whaddya know? Asshole made sure I got a real nice nap..." Tucked away in a corner, near the fireplace, was a phonograph. Beside it were two of Alastor's shadows, protecting the damn thing from anyone who came too close.

Definitely adorable.

Almost as much as the deer man currently nuzzling his chest fluff.

Gripped by some sentimentality, Angel Dust remembered a song he stumbled onto while exploring VoxTube. One of his upper arms gently brushed back a stray lock of Alastor's hair. The action caused the deer demon to make a small snuffling noise and turned his head away.

Angel Dust, completely endeared, tried very hard not to melt as he sang softly:

_"There's a pain in my heart and it won't go away_   
_Now I know I'm falling in deep_   
_'Cause I need you here with me."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. For the antique radio: I may have been listening to Postmodern Jukebox's cover of Bon Jovi's You Give Love a Bad Name.  
> 2\. Title & the lyrics Angel sings are from "Here With Me," by Marshmello ft CHVRCHES.  
> 3\. I really wish I lived near Voodoo Donuts.  
> 4\. I have never eaten venison, but would, if I had the chance.  
> 5\. Thanks are in order, to the following: The Radio Dust server I'm in, for being such sweethearts sdgdsgdsg, [Diamond Wings ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondWings/pseuds/DiamondWings) for the roasted venison recipe (and the romertopf!) , Mythic Bitch in the TW discord server for helping with my outline, [Almost Silver ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almost_silver) for letting me ask questions about venison, and these folks for reading my WIP and providing feedback: [Tay](Https://night-raven-roses.tumblr.com) , Meg, Lucii, Britney, [Honey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSinnamon/pseuds/QueenSinnamon) , [Nat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_sakura/pseuds/gold_sakura) , and [Natsu!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excelsia/pseuds/Excelsia)


	2. My Love Comes With a Fork and Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The developing relationship continues. Angel felt a little heartbroken when he read Alastor the Neruda poem, and he didn't reply. In an effort to squash down his emotions, he tries to forget it ever happened. Alastor, who was Terrible at Feelings, hadn't realized he needed to _verbally_ respond. 
> 
> Whether it was at work or in the hotel, Angel's mind keeps drifting toward Alastor. To distract himself from confessing his feelings, Angel Dust learns to bake from a client. He ends up pouring his emotions into some batter. Faced with his own growing feelings, Alastor decides to express them once and for all by cooking for Angel. At the very least, they'd get a meal and a conversation before the rejection. 
> 
> What he doesn't know is, Angel Dust planned to do the same, by cooking him dessert--an (infernal) exchange of feelings, if you will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _This was supposed to be a one-shot._ Instead the story took me on one helluva road trip, and I'm happy I can finally share it with everyone! It fought me every step of the way (every time I opened this document there was always something to edit, rewrite, or delete) and it's still a thicc story.
> 
> As always, there is a lot of food, eating, cooking, baking, and hunting here. More fluff and mutual pining, but it's resolved in the end. :)
> 
> Warnings for blood (extraction, rain, being used for cooking, and other similar feats), fear, OC self-harm (but it's to open a portal), canon-compliant violence, Val being an ass to Angel Dust, talk about weight, carving, tattoos, and murder. Still no smut but I wrote some kissing (and petting, maybe?) between Angel and a stag porn star, so be warned for that.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first chapter. I hope this satisfies you, too.

Angel was scheduled to shoot soft porn today, and he was terrified. It was easier, by far, to just lie back and let one (or several) demons just paw and prod and do things to him, partially against his will. Soft porn had buildup, and feelings, and doing that without any drugs or alcohol to loosen him up beforehand?

Damn straight Angel Dust was scared. Valentino put the cherry on top of his anxiety cake when he mentioned his partner was a very...gifted stag. "He asked for some softcore stuff, so just...think back to your first couple films." Ah. The ones that were more focused on emotions and foreplay. 

Angel usually left those moments on his bookshelf and watched them when he felt nostalgic. He'd almost asked for some morphine smoke, just to make it easier on his heart. The porn star had successfully pushed his feelings to one side for more than fifty years. Calling on them after all this time? Ugh.

But work was work.

Angel Dust sighed as he accepted a steaming mug of tea, though he just wet his lips. The lipstick his makeup artist used was a beautiful bright red, and he didn't want it smearing on the cup. Angel Dust watched as his wig was brushed and styled while mascara and blush were applied onto his face. Seeing how the crew transformed him into a completely different persona each time was a fascinating process, but he looked concerned as he saw Citron, the orange wolf demon, frown.

"What's up?" Angel asked, looking at him through the mirror. The wolf demon had dug into a bag at his waist and looked at several hairpins with disdain. "Oh, sorry sweetheart. Just...I know I want to put your hair up, but I don't have the perfect pin...the ones I have are too small."

He looked at the hairpins Citron had chosen. Stars, hearts, flowers, diamonds...all cute, but small and delicate. "Mmm...I know. Hand me my jewelry box, sugar." 

Angel dug around the box until he found the red chrysanthemum hairpin. The medium-sized red flower seemed to smile at him, and there were two pearls at the end of a gold chain. "Here." 

The moment the wolf demon saw it, his face broke into a wide grin. "That's it! Perfect..." He put Angel's wig for the evening up into an elegant twist, with the hairpin holding it up. "Lookin' gorgeous as always, Angel." 

The spider blew his hair and makeup artist a kiss, staring at him through the mirror. "Only 'cause you make me that way every day, baby." He dreaded the upcoming scene, but he looked beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Now, Angel Dust knew there was no chance in hell Alastor was going to watch one of his films. So having the accessory on (and feeling excited about it) was completely irrational. But it comforted him, to wear the Radio Demon's gift into Valentino's territory. Reminded Angel that there was at least one piece of him that didn't have the pimp's grubby handprints all over it. When his partner for the evening tried to remove it from his hair, Angel stopped him by grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers.

He could _taste_ the sour tang of Valentino's snarl. "Cut! Angie, baby, that wasn't in the script. We're supposed to close up on him unpinning it from yer hair. Daddy hasn't steered you wrong yet, has he?"

Well, he really couldn't doubt that. He was treated _well enough_ as Valentino's top performer and property. Angel had a room that connected directly with Valentino's, filled with designer clothes, bags, and shoes. He never got to actually take any of it back to the hotel, of course. Just accessories to remind him of what he was to Valentino: a trophy whore. 

He was _also_ aware that Vox's room was bigger than his and contained far more expensive toys. The differences between them was stark: Valentino spent money on both of them, but only Vox was loved. Angel Dust sucked in a deep breath, batted his eyelashes, and told the pimp what he wanted to hear.

"No, Daddy, I'm sorry. Just the nerves takin' over, I guess. It's a pretty emotional scene."

Small mercies. Valentino looked convinced, and a softness appeared briefly behind his heart-shaped sunglasses. The moth breathed in a long drag of red smoke from his cigarette. One of his upper hands ruffled Angel's hair while another tugged idly on the chest fluff peeking out of his robe, teasing it slightly. The proximity was almost too much for him to bear. 

"As much as yer fans love t'see you get railed hard, there's a certain _je ne sais quoi_ with the emotional ones. An' from this angle, you do look good enough to eat." Angel Dust summoned whatever inner peace he had left as Valentino's mouth came extremely close to his ear. "Yes, absolutely delicious." 

At one point he might have adored the extra attention.

Right now, he just wanted to go back to work.

"Yeah...I think I heard makeup callin' for me, Daddy..." Valentino was about to grab him by the waist when he heard a phone ring to the tune of Video Killed the Radio Star.

"Voxxy!" Was the last thing Angel heard before he successfully escaped and located a makeup artist. He was always thankful when a crew member pretended to call on him for an opinion or three. Occasionally they asked for money, but mostly they did it because they knew what life would be like if Angel Dust wasn't treated well.

The number of crew members that had gone missing each time the moth got too familiar or violent with the porn star had become uncomfortably high, during Vox's absence.

* * *

They tried reshooting the scene from another angle. A crew member led Angel and his partner to another set--this time next to a window. Angel's back was going to be toward the camera, clad in a sheer black robe, red lingerie, and the hairpin.

The lights were dimmed, so only the ethereal glow of the fairy lights and Angel Dust's pink markings remained. It was meant to be a romantic scene; one where a pair fell in love in the middle of the best friend's wedding. The goal wasn't to see how much he could take on a whim.

These moments--vulnerable and soft--were still precious to Angel, as scared as he was. He had no idea when he was ever going to feel this way again: warm, well-cared for, and wanted simply because there was affection running between him and his partner.

Emotionally draining as all heck, but it was nice to dream. Once in a while. Angel's brain helpfully reminded him that _Alastor_ made him feel this way without sex, and it made his heart pitter-patter like nothing else. 

It translated very well on screen, too.

"Action!"

That was all it took for Angel Dust to snap out of his thoughts and slide back into his persona. The stag was never going to be Alastor, even if he squinted hard enough. But his partner of the evening was still gorgeous. The planes of his body were solid and warm against Angel's soft, downy fur. Long, black-tipped claws gently made their way up toward his nape, where the chrysanthemum pin gleamed, the shade as deep crimson as Angel Dust's lingerie.

Angel looked into the stag's eyes and saw his own reflection, clear and soft. The lack of radio dials and white noise added to his disappointment, but he was an expert at hiding his true feelings by now. After a beat, the spider cupped the deer demon's face and smiled, letting the other pull him by the waist into a kiss.

 _"Most days we sell your body, Angel. But sometimes, your fans want a dream. And it's your job to deliver."_ In those days, he'd felt lighter, the beatings had been non-existent, and Valentino was nice. 

Of course, he played right into the pimp's hands, all the way to signing the contract. Then it had been far too late, and Valentino had carved the wings onto Angel's back. Because he had been Valentino's _favorite_. He wondered if it would ever disappear. 

* * *

  
Alastor had read him a passage once, about how some cells in the body were completely replaced with new ones every seven years. Angel had asked if it included scar tissue. The deer seemed concerned, and the porn star had played it off as a joke before he leaned against his shoulder to go to sleep. 

_"Not quite, my dear. Some scars we keep with us forever."_ Angel hadn't felt comforted by that. He'd mumbled something about _"But what if I want the scar to go away?"_

 _"Then,"_ Alastor said softly as he flipped another page of his book. _"I'll just have to overlay my own scars on it, won't I?"_ There had been a profound silence between them both, as the weight of the Radio Demon's words sank in. Alastor held his book a bit too firmly, and Angel Dust had just _stared_ at him. 

When it was evident the Radio Demon wouldn't comment further, Angel said softly, _"Maybe then I'd have scars that aren't...unpleasant memories."_ He'd fully fallen asleep then and awoke to Alastor's familiar radio hum as he brought Angel some warm tea. They'd stayed overnight in the library, and cooked omelettes in the kitchen before Charlie and the others woke up. 

It was possibly one of Angel Dust's favorite memories with Alastor. He'd watched as the Radio Demon attempted to make a rolled omelette (like Niffty did, with sugar) and held wooden chopsticks for the first time. Since then, that was how Angel Dust liked his eggs. And secretly, he hoped Alastor would make good on his word. The thought of someone he was fond of covering the scars he hated gave him a renewed source of hope. Maybe one day, he wouldn't flinch every time a knife got too close to his fur.

* * *

Angel's partner leaned in and whispered, sweet and low: "Just pretend I'm whoever you really want to take it off of you."

If only he knew. In reply, the spider pressed onward, his chest fluff delectably presented behind red and black lace. Angel Dust was enticingly warm and soft against the stag's solid bulk. "Shut up," he replied with a soft huff. "and take it off of me."

The hairpin was unclasped, and Angel Dust's curls were freed, tumbling and framing his face perfectly. His partner breathed in awe at the effect. Angel Dust, playful and sweet, grinned as he pulled the stag toward the bed. He could have sworn he heard radio feedback as Angel's robe was gently removed from his body.

Which was silly--hadn't he already known Alastor had little to no interest in these kinds of things?

As Angel Dust kissed his partner of the evening, his upper arms reached up to hold onto the antlers on his partner's head, pulling him closer. They may have looked heavy, but the antlers were smooth to the touch and a little warm from the studio lights. Angel must have held them the right way because his partner growled against his lips and ground against him, hips fitting together just right. 

His thoughts drifted toward Alastor again. Would his antlers also branch out like this, had he permitted Angel to touch them? The porn star was so lost in his thoughts and yet, it looked fabulous on camera. His eyes were glazed with wonder, resulting in a scene that looked like the stag was Angel Dust's real partner. 

"And that's a wrap! Perfect, Angel...we're ready for the stills, now..."

During the ride back to the hotel, Angel Dust stared out the window. He barely remembered the entire thing. Normally he'd be all over someone gorgeous _and_ hung. Yet here he was, heart aching for Alastor. His purse was lined with business cards full of numbers he'd never call. 

_"I don't need them getting to know me outside the studio."_ Angel was relieved Valentino was currently in a video call with Vox, because he actually had his body to himself during the entire car ride. He wondered what Valentino saw in Vox. As far as he knew, their relationship was considered chaste, for hell's standards. Besides the occasional smashed LCD screen, Vox didn't have bruises or wounds. 

_"Was that how Valentino showed his love? No excessive torture?"_ He didn't want to think about it longer than a minute or two. After all, love was a farce in hell. No one understood it better than one of Val's babies.

But still, his heart just wouldn't quit. 

_"Fuckin' feelings, always have to go an' ruin shit."_ He'd gotten to know Alastor beyond the creepy humming and radio static. Angel had a powerful friend, and he didn't want to give that up by confessing his love.

He felt nervous as he exited the car and pushed the hotel lobby's doors open. Angel Dust almost wished the bar was closed.

* * *

But it was open.

Of course it was. Husk was still behind the counter, and Alastor seemed to be talking to him, casual as ever. Like he'd swung by for a nightcap. Angel could have ignored them and went straight to bed. But his feet walked toward the bar. When Alastor and Angel Dust's eyes met, the deer demon smiled, heartbreakingly handsome. 

Angel's mouth (and heart) smiled back, and he slid onto the barstool beside him. The day's aches and pains melted into nothing as Angel ordered a cocktail and talked about his day. Alastor leaned in and listened as if the porn star's stories held the answers to the universe. More than once, the Radio Demon's eyes were drawn to the hairpin keeping Angel's wig in its elegant hairstyle.

It really did look good on him. His body was wrapped in a thin baby pink jacket with white deer on the bottom, the red crescent moons on their foreheads touching against a dark pink lake. Angel's signature black choker was on his neck, plain and strangely empty. 

If things went well, maybe he could find some jewel to hang off it. 

Wait.

 _"If things went well?"_ Alastor drained his glass and shook his head, laughing at something Angel was saying. Things were going well. They were friends who spent time together. Granted, there were moments when Angel Dust asked to hold his hand, and Alastor stopped counting the minutes until it was time for him to let go.

Whether it was going to progress into anything else, well. That wasn't just up to him, was it?

Watching them both, Husk poured himself another drink and tried to resist grabbing both of their faces and pressing them against each other. The kid was way too energetic and Alastor was paying more attention than necessary. Why neither of them ever said anything about it was irritating, to say the least.

Niffty had described it as 'a slow burn,' but this was getting ridiculous.

 _"Why did it have to be you?"_ Alastor thought as he asked Husk for a Boulevardier, hoping the whiskey and Campari would capture his emotions and choke them down. 

"And why were you disappointed?" He asked. Angel was talking about a scene he did today, with a 'really hot deer daddy,' and had even gotten his number, but his voice sounded less than excited. The Radio Demon pretended this didn't please him in the slightest.

_"Well, for starters, he wasn't you."_

What Angel Dust said: "In this industry...datin' means a john gets the goods fer free, and that ain't good fer business."

Free just wasn't in the pimp's dictionary. If Angel didn't hide a gift before Valentino, Vox, or Velvet saw it, the trinkets or food would just disappear without his knowledge. 

"Mm. Not one for fairy tales and happy endings, I wager?" 

"His happy endings are the ones where he's countin' how much money I give him after a week, sugar." Angel's words were hollow, and he drank half of his cocktail. "Love was how he lured me in. Now I'm chained up for life."

 _"Love was a commitment no one had time for in the porn industry."_ Angel knew this--but his heart still felt something for Valentino. He'd heard how the pimp didn't believe in labels, but Angel still sighed the words deep into thick pillow covers and dove beneath comforters. Angel gift-wrapped his heart for Valentino, and the damn pimp got off on breaking it every chance he got.

It was kind of unforgettable, the way Valentino fucked him tender and then kicked him out of his bed in the morning. He felt the sting when Valentino treated Vox like royalty. Angel officially stopped believing in love the day his pimp screamed Vox's name as he climaxed and expected him to act like nothing happened.

"Don't you like being in chains?" Alastor asked. "Depends on who's holdin' the leash." Angel answered with a purr. He explained further, "If yer gonna choke me like ya hate me, at least love me right, y'know?"

"Mmm." Alastor said, noncommittal, though his eyebrow twitched enough for Husk to notice. "It does sound like a fair deal, cher." 

Angel Dust decided to push his luck. "If ya ever wanna chain me up, lemme know. Bet you know how to do it right." It was just offhanded banter. Instead of answering with a quip, Alastor slid his claw beneath Angel Dust's choker and _pulled_. The porn star gasped as their faces were close--close enough to kiss, if Alastor leaned in. 

He wasn't getting enough air into his lungs. Angel smelled whiskey, smoke, and sunlight on the deer demon--with an underlying current of blood. It was electric, and the way Alastor looked at him (as if he were something to be examined, dissected, and pinned to the wall) was screwing with his thoughts. "Like that?" Alastor murmured as he let go. The sudden rush of air made spots dance around Angel Dust's eyes. 

_"I really shouldn't have done that."_ But he knew he would've asked for it again. "...something like that," Angel Dust whispered. He didn't trust himself to say much else.

"Mm... good." Alastor felt his thoughts return from static to music. There was so much **dissonance** whenever Angel was around. That small action--pulling on his collar, in lieu of the leash--softened everything back into harmony.

The word slid out and he could no longer take it back. 

"Good?" Angel asked, cheeks flushing a light pink. A crackle of static was heard before Alastor gestured to the Boulevardier. "...good." He repeated. Alastor felt heat crawl across his cheeks.

"Thanks," Husk said and hid his laugh with a swig from a bottle of gin. "Do you two want anything else?"

"I... think I'll turn in after this, thanks babe," Angel Dust said. His skin felt too hot and that was from _one goddamn interaction_. Next to him, the Radio Demon didn't say anything, but a long line of feedback slipped out, awkwardly endearing. 

_"What the hell was that?"_

* * *

After returning to his room, Angel Dust promptly called Cherri to freak out.

"So, he wasn't bein' an ass."

"Nope." Angel picked at his blanket as he watched Fat Nuggets snuffle in his sleep. "He tugged on my choker and stared like he wanted to eat me."

"Sounds like a great time." He could almost imagine Cherri Bomb tinkering with her homemade explosives as she talked.

"Yeah, but...Cherri, why's he gotta be so fucking hot?"

"Hey, he's your crush, not mine. Sounds pretty serious if he short-circuited, to be honest."

"Shit."

"I know Angie, but...he asked if ya liked bein' in chains? Pulled yer choker like it was a collar? If he ain't down to fuck after that, what's it for? Overlord territorial bullshit?"

Angel Dust sighed into the phone. "Maybe? I just...gotta keep my distance before I tell him I love him, Cherri."

"Then do something else instead of hanging out with him?"

Angel Dust just didn't want to face his feelings. Honestly, it was a wonder Al wasn't bored, the way Angel was always down to hang out whenever it rained. Maybe she had a point.

"Sounds like a plan, sugar tits. When ya gonna bring Pent back to the hotel?" She laughed and called out loud, "Hey love, Angel's asking when we'll visit! Yeah, I'm sure Al remembers...oh, right..." 

She was back on the line in minutes. "he says he'll be willing to come by when the Radio Demon can't kill him."

Angel Dust laughed so loud Fat Nuggets woke up. "So, durin' an event or some shit. Noted. Later hun." He gave his pet pig some cuddles in apology. "Sorry baby. Mama just got some advice from Cherri."

Angel had to get another hobby, so he wouldn't feel disappointed when Alastor (inevitably) found something else to fill up his rainy days. He just didn't think he could keep talking to him without admitting how he felt.

For a straightforward Overlord, Alastor sure was giving a lot of mixed signals. Angel hadn't received a reply after he read a Neruda poem, and then he pulled some weirdly hot breathplay before shutting down like even Alastor didn't know what he did.

Angel Dust snuggled deeper into the covers. Maybe he did need something else to do.

* * *

When Valentino told Angel Dust about his newest client, Angel was sure the universe was fucking with him. The porn star was used to receiving clients who had...unique kinks. But a client willing to pay five times the regular asking price just for the porn star to bake something? Suspiciously easy. 

But the client had money to burn and Valentino was protective of his favorite porn star. As much as an investor was interested in protecting an expensive rental home, anyway. So, a meeting was set inside Dandelion, a five-star restaurant, with Valentino present.

They recognized Yuuko Margaux from her client dossier: a woman with ink-black hair and captivating gray eyes. Her mouth was covered with a black surgical mask and she wore a dark blue dress. Angel thought her last name was familiar but couldn't quite place it.

"Your photo doesn't do you any justice, Miss Yuuko." Valentino said as she looked up at him. Her eyes looked apologetic as she signaled to the waiter, who was by her side immediately with a tray of hard candies. Two disappeared behind her mask before she removed it, revealing a smile that was slit from ear to ear. 

_"Huh...and here I thought her kind didn't like travelin' too far from home."_ Angel Dust thought as he drank some water. Even so, Yuuko was still beautiful. 

"Sorry. I don't want to fall back into bad habits...would you like to discuss our arrangement over brunch?" Her voice reminded Angel Dust of warm milk with honey. 

"Oh, sure...can't stay for very long though, I gotta get back to the studio. Just a salad, please. And tonic water." The moth didn't even glance at the menu, and his hand was already on Angel Dust's thigh. Feeling self-conscious, Angel Dust opened the menu and read all the soup options. 

"Hmm...hazelnut parsnip soup sounds pretty good. With flower carrots. And a watermelon spritz." Yuuko's smile grew as she heard his order. "Sounds perfectly decadent. I'll have some honey soy chicken and rice. Short-grain, please."

Her terms were simple enough. "My husband is a professional pastry chef, and though I love to eat whatever he makes, there's a certain appeal in watching someone else execute his recipes..." 

While his interest in women didn't extend to the bedroom, Angel was always willing to please for extra cash. "All right...but it'll be me an' your husband...baking together?" 

"Yes."

"Uh, lady...you could've hired anyone else t'do this job. Why me?" Valentino squeezed Angel's thigh more forcefully than necessary, but Yuuko's smile got even wider. She replied patiently, "Because we wanted you specifically. I was even willing to pay the fee for you taking on female clients."

He really didn't understand how rich demons worked. But she and her husband could pay for his time, brunch, and then some. The meeting passed by quickly in between bites and listening to Yuuko talk at length about the recipes she wanted Angel Dust to learn over a month or so. "Sounds reasonable," Valentino said, chewing on the last of his salad. "As long as Angel doesn't...go overboard." 

The porn star didn't miss how Yuuko narrowed her eyes at him. "As you can see," she said, gesturing to her tiny waist. "I've been married for half a season and still as fine as can be. Portion control and all that." A nervous smile. "Of course. It's not you I'm worried about, Miss Yuuko, but...I trust Angel will be in very good hands." He left shortly before dessert was served. "Call for the car when you need a ride back to the hotel," he said, letting his gaze linger a beat too long on Angel Dust's body. 

"I will, Daddy." He was still hungry, even after the soup. Angel was eager for Valentino to leave so he could order other things off the menu.

Yuuko gave him a polite smile and wave as she swallowed her last bite of chicken. "Prickly fellow, isn't he? Not even staying for dessert..." Angel Dust shrugged and wrapped his upper hands around his watermelon spritz. "Val has a hate-hate relationship with carbs n' sugar. Doesn't want me to gain much either, but...food's too good to pass up--when I can get it." 

As if to drive his point home, the porn star reached for Yuuko's menu. "A golden waffle set, please. Whipped butter and chicken schnitzel. And swap the watermelon spritz for a mango cordial. Thanks."

She nodded in approval. "Pity not to indulge, even in the afterlife. But" Yuuko popped another hard candy in her mouth before she whispered, "I can't wait for you to meet Miel again." It was a familiar name that rendered Angel Dust soft. 

"Sunovabitch, I can't believe he's married!" Yuuko giggled and showed off a pretty ring with an amber diamond on it. "Once I ate some of his honey cake, I knew I had to have him forever."

* * *

Precisely twenty minutes later, a familiar voice, low and even, spoke to the waiter. "I'm with my wife--Yuuko Margaux?" Angel Dust turned his head and there, swathed in a black dress and wide-brimmed hat, stood Miel Margaux. He was a poodle demon, and one of the few smart and beautiful whores who escaped from Valentino.

Angel waved politely from his seat and the poodle demon beamed, his golden canines shining beneath the chandelier's light. When Miel leaned down, Angel hugged him and said, "Bitch, you look so good. How's it goin'?"

Miel was even taller than Angel Dust (by a few centimeters, with heels) and eagerly took a seat next to his wife. "In between getting married or setting up business? B.O.D.Y.'s doin' great, by the way. Breaks my heart whenever you don't pass by, Angel." 

"Yeah, yeah...but y'know who I work for. Thinks carbs are even worse than Mammon." 

"If he had his way, none of the Lust businesses would even **have** food options..." Miel muttered. B.O.D.Y. was a well-known fetish bakery in the Lust sector. Angel Dust often passed the small shop many times between his work and the hotel. As he looked at one of his oldest friends, he wondered if Miel still had the tattoo, beneath his fur. 

The angel wings.

He took one look at Miel's wife and thought against asking. There were some things that had to be left in the dark, as it were. And now he understood why Yuuko's explanation earlier hadn't mentioned sex. His friend fucked under specific circumstances--Angel had enough drunken conversations with Valentino to know so.

Angel asked a different question. Just to see if this was the demon he'd worked with. "This really isn't about sex, is it?" 

The poodle looked about as scandalized as Yuuko was pleased. "No, goodness--I loved you then and I love you now, Angel, but you haven't known Yuuko long enough!" One of Angel Dust's manicured hands flew to his heart in relief. "Oh, thank Lucifer it's still you, Miel." 

His wife's eyelashes fluttered excitedly, and Angel Dust tried very hard to ignore her hands rapidly cutting up a slice of vanilla cake--using a pair of scissors. "As much as I would love to try, I'm sure you know about Miel. He'd warm up to the idea if you and I were friends for around..."

"Twenty-five years minimum?" His sky-blue eyeshadow darkened a little, with how flushed his face had gotten. "Yes." The tension leaked out of Angel Dust's bones, and he raised his glass for a refill. "It really is just about baking, then?" 

The poodle demon accepted a bite of flaky pastry from his wife, tail beating against the floor with delight. "Perfection. Dandelion does the best honey tarts...but, I remember telling you, during the early years in Valentino's care--I'd stay until I paid my debt. But you helped me escape. Let me return the favor, Angel Dust." 

His heart rose and sank with equal fervor. While he fantasized about a life far away from his pimp, escaping wasn't going to be the best route. Angel would have to majorly change his appearance and mannerisms, like Miel had. The poodle he'd worked with was shy and didn't talk much, unless it was required for a scene. 

And while Miel had been good at performing, he really shone when he had an emotional connection with clients. The poodle had already been halfway to curating a list of regulars before he escaped. If he hadn't, Angel was sure his friend would have been on his way to being a high-class escort. 

However, Angel was far too happy with what he'd transformed into to give it up, even for salvation from Valentino. Miel had been delightful to work with, but the poodle had dreams. He really wanted to learn how to cook. Angel? He just wanted to work for his next high.

 _"The high's different now, but substance, a person, what's it matter? Fifty years doin' porn and I still haven't thought about anything else."_ Angel Dust shook his head and drank his watermelon spritz. "Thanks for rememberin' me, Miel. Really. But I like sex work. Just wish Val wouldn't beat me up for no reason."

He could almost feel the disappointment behind Miel's drooping ears. "I'd love to learn how to make some of yer favorite desserts, though. I didn't visit because I was ignorin' ya Miel, really. Valentino just doesn't let me walk past yer store. Says if I walk inside, I'll gain weight faster than a moth can get off in a room full of lamps." 

"Well, that just isn't true...low-calorie desserts exist..." The concept was foreign to the porn star, and Miel insisted. "Really! There are substitutions!"

Angel wasn't quite convinced, but the contract was officially written and signed. Twice a week, Angel Dust would be driven from the Porn Studio to Miel and Yuuko's penthouse. There, he'd learn how to bake. Maybe now Angel could pretend he baked to distract himself from looking for substances--or people--that could cause him to "stray" from his path to redemption. 

Privately, Angel thought: _"Charlie better make sure Redemption looks hotter than Alastor."_

* * *

"And how is that pet project of yours doing, Alastor?" Rosie asked, stroking the fox fur pelt the deer had set on the counter. Of all the stores in the Pentagram Main Square, Rosie's shop was one of the most spacious.

"The hotel, or Angel Dust?" The Radio Demon shot back, smile tightly drawn as he lowered his teacup. "So, I take it you've made more progress with the latter than the former? Is he really so entertaining, darling?"

"I... well. He might have alluded to chains and I may have...pulled on his choker like it was a collar."

"...and?"

"I let him go." When Husker asked him about it afterward, even he didn't know why it happened. "He...intrigued me. Talked about how he thought I would pull his leash. So I...demonstrated."

Rosie placed a pastry onto a plate next to him. "No profession of love afterward?"

"No..." He felt like he was digging a very deep grave. "Just...he went back to his room?"

She poured herself another cup of tea and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sounds like you've spun a tricky web for Angel Dust. He might forget about it with enough time. Lucifer knows that demon has so many clients."

Alastor felt comforted and yet not. He sliced into the pastry and ate it, letting the sticky caramel and butter melt on his tongue. "What is this?"

"Kouign-Amann. Deliciously rich." Drinking a cupful of unsweetened tea, Alastor hummed his approval. "Who sent you a box? I'll have to get some to bring back to the hotel." Maybe it would convince Angel Dust to excuse his prior actions.

"Miel. You remember him, don't you?"

"Ah. Involving some duct tape, black dye, and Mother Goose?" 

"When will you stop naming the safehouses...? But yes, that one. His wife enrolled him in pastry school and sent me a sample. I believe he has contracted your...potential significant other?" 

There was a loud buzz of radio static that gave way to a song. 

_"You're just like an angel_

_Your skin makes me cry."_

A chuckle and Rosie chose to bestow her attention onto the fox pelt resting on the glass countertop. "Nothing illicit."

"That's not what bothered--" Alastor pouted and tuned himself back onto the song. 

_"Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want."_ He bit down on some more pastry and watched as Rosie rolled a device onto the pelt that collected stray hair. 

"I'm flattered you even remembered to skin Cianti for me. The lamb did mention you were...respectful of her wishes." 

Alastor played his laugh track extra loud for her benefit. "She wanted a quick death for him. Never mentioned what I should do with him afterward. And besides...wasn't it _you_ who said quality material was the first step to producing our finest work?" 

She gazed down at him from the brim of her hat and gave a half-hearted shrug. "Fair point. But still, I don't know what you see in that escort." Alastor raised an eyebrow. "Escort, and not uppity whore? Who are you and what have you done to my beloved Rosie?"

"No one you'd miss, I'm afraid. So, why Angel Dust?"

"He...did you know he reads poetry?" 

He heard the venom behind her smile as quickly as she made it. "Poetry? Oh, no, Alastor. Please don't tell me you caught **feelings.** Practically impossible to get my hands on his fur now..."

The deer demon's shoulders drooped, ever so slightly. "Mainly why I brought you the pelt. A peace offering. Your clients will have to get their fill of spider fur elsewhere, I'm afraid." 

Rosie draped the nine-tailed fox pelt over a mannequin wearing a beautiful dress with a square neckline. A sash with the words "Reserved, Sei Shōnagon." was pinned at the waist. "But for it to happen now...how unexpected. I just hope you've learned from previous trysts." 

She pointed to a few areas around the dress's sleeves and hem before she clicked her tongue. A drawer from the back opened and a storm of pins flew toward her like bees, narrowly missing Alastor's cheek. "Sorry dear, that one's still a little angry with you." 

"Beatrice really should calm down, I got her point." Alastor said. Rosie clenched her jaw but let him have his pun. After choosing a few to use on the dress, the rest returned to the little drawer.

"Pity, I did like Beatrice." 

"Mm, but I got bored." 

"Don't you think you'll tire of him? Angel Dust doesn't seem the type to accept a fate other than one he chooses for himself." 

"Maybe," Alastor said softly, "that's what makes him so intriguing."

Rosie sighed and dropped the conversation altogether. She knew him well enough by now. "No one has requested for pink and white spider fur as of late. Must be an acquired taste. And... you do have such a fondness for rare things." 

"A prostitute reading Baudelaire in hell is about as rare as they come." After adding a hat to a new mannequin, Rosie returned to her place behind the counter and took out a wooden box full of business cards. Her manicured hands flipped through several cards before settling on one. 

"What say you to hunting for some boar? I have a client waiting for you to grant their wish." As she spoke, the mannequin wearing a hat had the name 'Abigail' pinned to it.

Boar meat? That was new, even by hell's standards. Pig was normal and simple, certainly. But boar? Alastor's eyes twinkled with mirth, even as his pupils dilated before transforming into radio dials. "This is going to be very entertaining."

As he left Rosie's atelier however, Alastor let his smile drop for a minute. He was tired. _"Why, indeed...of all the damned creatures..."_ His heart, which had been traitorously silent for more than a century, had begun to whirr back to life. It was almost painful, for a thing that had gone so unused to be revived so suddenly.

Maybe it all started when Angel Dust, not knowing who Alastor was, propositioned him without fear. He'd been a fascination, then. And Alastor decided to gaze into the maw of the abyss the day he saw Angel Dust reading in the library. Now he was paying the price.

Trust a dapper gentleman to fall antlers over hooves for a four _("Six," his mind corrected, for he kept two hidden away--he'd seen that much on the picture show before it had rudely been cut off--)_ armed porn star.

_"It must've been the poetry."_

Of course.

* * *

Angel Dust's first baking lesson started on a cloudy Friday evening. Instead of cam work at the studio, the company car took him to Yuuko and Miel's penthouse suite in the Gluttony sphere. He wasn't surprised--all throughout brunch, Miel's wife nibbled on various sweets. Being married to a pastry chef must have been her dream come true.

The penthouse was built around the kitchen. Yuuko poured Angel a cup of rose milk tea. "Miel taught me how to make the syrup, and hibiscus made it beautifully pink," she explained, as Angel breathed in the warm floral scent. 

"I love hibiscus," Angel admitted as he took a sip. "Great. I'll teach you how to make hibiscus shortbread sometime," Miel declared as he walked into the kitchen. The brunette poodle's curls were tied back into a long, glossy ponytail and he was already wearing an apron. 

"What do you feel like eating today?" The porn star thought about some sweets he hadn't eaten since he was alive. "Banana bread?" 

"Perfect." Miel began to bring out a mint-colored stand mixer, heart-shaped measuring spoons, and mixing bowls. While Angel Dust pulled out flour, sugar, and bananas from the pantry, rain began to fall onto Pentagram City. He nearly dropped the sugar in his haste to grab his phone. "Was it supposed to rain today?"

"No, the weatherperson said it was because of the Cocytus cold front." Yuuko piped up from her place on the kitchen counter. "Why? Do you have a client on rainy days?"

Not for the first time, Angel wished Alastor had a phone he could text. "No, I..I get days off during rain, and I meet up with...a friend. We usually do stuff together. Just feels...a little weird not being there today."

He still stayed because the couple was paying for his time and Angel wanted to catch up with Miel, too. He just couldn't believe the cold today. The red rain fogged up the windows, and the porn star shivered until Yuuko adjusted their heater. If the cold was bad enough that it rose all the way from the Ninth circle, he didn't want to know what the Ninth felt like. 

"Has Valentino ever let you handle a knife?" Miel asked kindly, as he noticed Angel's reluctance to hold one. "Nah...doesn't 'want me to cut my fingers.'" They exchanged a look and the poodle demon snorted.

"I almost forgot about all of his...rules. I fully believe that's what inspired me to start B.O.D.Y." Angel Dust laughed and successfully cut up the bananas before he tossed them into the mixing bowl. The joke really was funny once he understood who actually ran the place. 

"Least one of us gets to eat whatever they want without gettin' roasted for it." 

Miel reached over and patted Angel Dust's thigh. "And soon, you'll be able to whip something up at that hotel you're staying at." The poodle taught Angel how to pre-heat and watch the oven. He was a fast learner, and it saddened Miel. If they'd escaped together, maybe Angel Dust would've figured out something to do besides porn.

It was a pleasant lesson, all in all. The poodle demon just never expected Angel Dust _to channel his aggression toward the batter._ The banana bread batter was over-mixed and led to tough and rubbery cake. Which was a shame--the batter itself had been fragrant and, as they ate a bite of banana bread, Miel and Yuuko felt a strange, sharp pang of longing. He'd heard of infusing flavors into one's cooking, but full-blown feelings?

Hm.

That was interesting.

"There's a recipe out there for everyone," Miel said kindly. "We just have to find yours."

* * *

Somehow, no matter how many poor demons Alastor killed and consumed, he couldn't exactly replicate the warmth he felt when Angel Dust held his hand. Or when he'd slept against that soft, warm chest fluff. Sleeping alongside the porn star, he discovered, was like having a hot water bottle, but _alive_. 

Which annoyed him, to say the least. The Radio Demon finished separating the last bit of boar meat from the hair before thoroughly inspecting the demon boar's hindquarters. It was less of a hassle than trying to catch a slippery pig, but not by much. 

Still, it entertained him for a while. With a trained butcher's eye, Alastor adjusted his monocle and used his trusty drop-point knife to cut away any tight muscle. The last thing he or his client needed was tough meat. The Radio Demon could have asked Juliet to get to acquire it for him, but there was something poetic about hunting his own prey. 

Especially if every bit of it was going to be used. Waste was one of the things Alastor absolutely couldn't forgive, even in hell. As if answering his irritation, the sky split open with a bright flash of red lightning, followed by thunder. Odd. The cold front had brought in unexpected rain.

Unfortunately, Angel Dust had clocked out of the hotel to go to work. As the Radio Demon wrapped up the meat and prepared to dry out the boar's skin, he heaved a heavy sigh. How was he supposed to continue existing now? Partially his fault, he knew. Alastor sealed in the memory with dinner in the library. But he thought of it as a one-time thing, before Alastor could successfully run away from whatever was blooming beneath cracked and dry earth.

Until it happened again.

And again.

And once more.

The _feel_ of Angel Dust's throat swallowing as Alastor held his choker had been unexpectedly pleasant. He rammed his antlers against the wallpaper, just to relieve some of the discomfort. The Radio Demon couldn't think clearly and seeing the marks he left on the wall was grounding, somehow.

If nothing else, Lucifer willing, Alastor would carve Angel Dust's heart out of his chest for himself, and disappear while the spider recovered. Maybe then he could figure out why he felt this way. The beast inside of him rebelled against the concept of hurting someone precious and filled his mouth with bitter bile and blood.

_"Precious. Mate. Possess."_

"Nearly everything involving you is becoming an exception," Alastor muttered as he spat out the noxious fluid into a bucket and waved it away into nonexistence. "Instead of the rule."

He sanitized his hands, conjured another pair of leather gloves, and continued packaging the boar meat like nothing had happened. The rain slid down the windows in large droplets, much like teartracks across one's cheeks. What he wouldn't give to have this happen six hours earlier. 

Alastor reached into his pocket and pulled out a flip phone. It had never occurred to him to give Angel Dust some way to contact him. _"Like we'd always see each other at the hotel..."_ There was a strange sense of naiveté that Alastor hadn't felt in years. He'd always been meticulous about nearly everything that (he thought) mattered to him. 

This...thing with Angel Dust, it was a new monster altogether. "Niffty?" The little darling had been mopping the kill floor, as he finished preparing the boar meat. "Yes Mister Alastor? Did you need something?"

"Could you go into the city and purchase one of those...smart phones?" 

Her eye practically sparkled at the thought of buying something new for her vintage-obsessed boss. "You got it! Should I help you set it up after?"

"Yes, that would be...wise. I think I would break the thing out of frustration if you didn't." 

As she zipped out of the hotel, the Radio Demon wiped his monocle with a silk pocket square and headed off to Rosie's, boar package in hand. He couldn't help feeling like something was wrong, walking beneath an umbrella without the spider next to him. He tried to ignore the strange, vice-like sensation in his chest. It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't Angel's, either. It just felt _strange_.

Inside the hotel refrigerator, a small box of pastries labeled "For Angel Dust" waited, with a note protected beneath cling wrap. "I'm sorry for all the weirdness, cher."

 _"For all the weirdness."_ A line had been crossed that night, and it felt futile to attempt to walk backwards, as if nothing had happened. But he could try.

The buck inside of him knew it was a foolish attempt.

But Alastor had never made much sense anyway.

* * *

Two weeks into his baking lessons and Angel felt like he'd grasped the basics, at least. He wasn't so nervous when it was time to cut up ingredients and remembered to preheat the oven when they made brownies. 

Within those 14 days, rain hadn't fallen, and he barely saw Alastor. He'd even asked Charlie at one point and she'd shrugged. "The last thing he said was...uh, he had some work to do at the Radio Tower. You know he splits his time between us and the broadcast, right, Angel?"

The concept of Alastor splitting his time between anything was strange to begin with. He was always talking about entertainment and the hotel but didn't believe in what the princess was doing. Angel hadn't believed in it either, and _he_ was supposed to be the prime example of redemption being possible. 

"Oh? Uh, yeah, I knew that...I jus' thought he'd given ya some more...concrete info." Charlie and Vaggie had been replacing some torn wallpaper with Niffty when Angel approached them. He'd ended up holding the replacement paper while they searched for a way to glue it down. 

"Trust me, Angel, if there was anything Al wanted to say, he would have before he left." 

And so, the spider decided to let it go. He focused his efforts on cleaning up with Charlie and received a free pass to nap until his shift at the Porn Studio started. Stretching his upper and lower arms, Angel's feet led him back to the library. After the mishap with the banana bread, he wanted to make it up to Miel. 

* * *

  
Angel Dust knew the library would be empty but needed to check out a book or two anyway. He walked toward "Recipe Books: Cannibals - Vegans" and looked for the dessert section. "Deceptively Easy Desserts...Last Course for Christmas...Instant Pot Sweets...oh, Blood and Chocolate: Exploring Sanguinaccio Dolce. Sounds like somethin' Al would like." It was a crimson and black volume with full color photos on every page.

The spider flipped to a page featuring a deep, dark chocolate pudding with a cinnamon stick, served inside a hollowed-out orange. It was plated delicately, with biscuits and sugared violets around the plate. His secondary eyes glowed pink as he read the ingredients. "Mm...chocolate...fresh pig's blood, sugar, and milk? Uh...nope, maybe not this recipe...oh, substitutions: cow's blood also acceptable...now we're talkin'..."

"I know a pretty good butcher, if you need some." A voice said close to his ear. Angel Dust jumped and nearly dropped the book. Alastor looked at him, amused and apologetic all at once. "Sorry to surprise you, cher."

Out of _principle_ , Angel Dust flipped him the bird and sat on one of the library's plush armchairs. "Ya ain't sorry at all, you creep! Don't sneak up on people like that!" The Radio Demon laughed and sat on the arm of Angel Dust's armchair. "So, did you need it?"

"The--the what?"

"Fresh blood. For...the pudding?" 

"I'm not even gonna ask. But...thanks, Al. That'd be great." The Radio Demon held his hand out and waited expectantly. Angel was tempted to give him a low five, but instead gave him his phone. The deer demon took his time, scrolling down different apps until he found the notes app.

Angel Dust found it exceedingly cute. He watched as Alastor used a claw to draw a cartoon sheep and labeled it 'Juliet', and wrote down the address of Carne et Vino. He recognized the name--Valentino had chosen them a few times as a caterer. "I thought a fox ran that place?"

"He used to." The deer demon said, flashing a smile with far too many teeth. "It's under new management now." He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a smartphone. "Here. Put yours in." It was one of the latest models and had a camera even better than Angel's.

"Whoa, you finally gettin' in touch with the rest of us?" Angel put in his contact details but didn't give the phone back right away. 

"What is it?" Alastor looked like he wanted to grab his phone out of Angel's grasp. 

"Selfie." 

"What?"

"Photo. For your contacts? C'mere." 

"Oh Angel Dust, I don--" ignoring his grumbling, Angel sat up and held the phone out, getting both of them in the frame. He sat down on the plush armchair while Alastor looked away, providing a profile view of his face. "Just hold that pose, sugar..." Angel snapped the photo but pouted when he saw Alastor's face. It wasn't even _recognizable_. The image was a glitchy and pixelated mess--he could barely see the outline of the deer's monocle.

So he tried again.

And again.

And one more time, for good measure. Each photo just got progressively worse. "What the fuck is this?" Angel asked. "Can't you turn it off?"

Alastor chuckled and loosened his tie, which distracted Angel more than he cared to admit. "No...At least, I don't think so? There are reasons why no one's ever caught me on camera before." 

"Come on, for me? Pleaaaaase?" 

Alastor pretended to be very interested in a spot above the fireplace. "You know that doesn't work on me." But as always--he relented. "Check it again."

Angel looked at the photos of Alastor in the phone gallery. The glitch effects were still there, but they only affected the edges of the frame, this time. It wasn't completely gone, but the Radio Demon was recognizable. "Okay. I'll set this as your contact photo, then. Thanks, Smiles." 

"For what?"

"The pastries in the fridge. The note. The photo. Hangin' out with me when it's rainin'. I'm sure ya got places ta be an' instead, yer over here..." He'd wanted to add _'that weird time you manhandled me,'_ but knew it wasn't the right time. 

"I wouldn't be if I didn't want to be here." Alastor said simply, trying to keep his smile from getting much too wide. He just walked into the library on a whim but hearing Angel murmur to himself and write down notes was an unexpected surprise. 

At least things weren't awkward between them.

The porn star tugged at a stray piece of thread on his suit jacket. "I know, I know...hey, help me up?" He reached out for the Radio Demon, who stood up and indulged him, once again. Angel was taller than Al, but his arms were strong and easily helped him up, without resorting to his eldritch powers. 

"Thanks. I'll tell my client to get their meat from Juliet in the future, too."

"What kind of client wants you to cook?" The deer demon asked, his head cocked slightly to the left. "Oh uh, married couple. The dude's a pastry chef and his wife wanted to see someone else make the desserts." Angel tucked his phone back into his pocket and grabbed the recipes he'd written on some spare paper. 

"How...interesting." Alastor looked like he wanted to say something else but didn't. With a shrug, Angel turned to leave and was met with Alastor's face, again--much too close for comfort.

"If ya do that again, Al, I'm gonna kiss ya. Quit it." Angel was mostly annoyed when he said it, and Alastor's eyes widened. "Look, yer cute n'all, Smiles, but even a whore like me has--"

"--personal space. Sorry, I... don’t know what's come over me, these days. But...when you're feeling up to it, would you...like to have dinner?"

Now it was Angel's turn to look surprised. "Like...a date?"

"No, it's a dinner."

"With Charlie n' the others?"

"No...just...us. And dinner. At my cabin."

"But not a date?"

Alastor looked up at Angel Dust. "Did you want it to be a date?"

"Uh...I... okay, let's have dinner sometime. Call me."

"I won't," Alastor quipped, and Angel Dust laughed. "Text me, then." There was something infinitely **bizarre** about the entire situation, but it was Alastor, and despite being a dapper deer daddy, he...also had moments like this. 

When Angel Dust was safely out of the library and in the hallway, he tried _not_ to squeal too loudly. Alastor had invited him to dinner. 

Without anyone else around.

With shaky fingers, he dialed Miel's number. "Hey, honey? No, no, I'm at the hotel. Just...instead of the bread puddin', could ya help me make this? It's called _sanguinaccio dolce_..."

* * *

Unfortunately, agreeing to a dinner and finding time to cook one were two different things. One week, Angel Dust was juggling filming and baking lessons with Miel. The week after that, one of the scriptwriters pitched the idea of a radio drama--involving Alastor testing some of his cooking equipment. 

"It could be a marketing ploy and a way to use the microwave, or the Nutribullet you were given, sir." One of his interns had a point. It would be good to actually use the equipment Lucifer was so _adamant_ on sending him. At first it was polite, small gifts for looking after his daughter, as if he were a babysitter instead of a co-financier of the hotel. Then it turned into gifts for appeasing a politician or two, thanks to Rosie. 

Now, now it was just to irritate the hell out of him, he was pretty sure. Alastor had _no idea_ what a microwave or a Nutriblender or a dehydrator did. The more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea of actually using the things became.

Just as he was thinking about what other cooking implements, he could bring from his cabin, Alastor's phone vibrated. He checked the screen and saw a message from Angel. It was a photo of him holding out a glass dish with what looked like black gelatin cubes, covered with cream. "Look Al! I made coffee jelly!" 

He had no idea what that was but understood that Angel was trying to make conversation. "Will it keep you up all night?" He typed back before putting the phone down. 

****Angel****   
**It could, but I'd rather be up all night doin' something else, if ya know what I mean.**

Alastor knew what he meant. He just refused to take the bait. Instead, he took a photo of three radio scripts, all with notes in red pen. "Have fun. I'll be here, on a date with these three." There was also a request about event ideas from Charlie, to secure additional funding for the hotel. 

_"At least that's simple enough,"_ He thought as he wrote a quick note to Charlie's father, updating him about the situation. While the man did love his daughter, the king was also busy with several issues of his own. 

Alastor should know--at least three of them were because of him. And if the deer demon played his cards right, he could feast on at least _one_ Overlord before the next extermination. 

Before long, his phone pinged again, with another message from Angel. It was certainly witty, he'd give him that. 

****Angel****   
**A four-way? You're kinkier than I thought, Al.**

He was about to lock his phone when another message came in--this time, from Rosie. Attached was a photo of Angel Dust, laughing even as flour was all over his apron. In the background was a dark-haired poodle demon holding a bag of chocolate chips. Miel, who had been one of Rosie's clients. One of the few dogs he'd ended up _not_ killing. 

****Rosie****   
**Your future paramour does have a nice smile.**

Alastor, taken completely off guard, typed up a reply after choking down a cup of coffee.

****Why 'future?'****

****Rosie****  
You haven't planned the dinner menu yet.

****Are you viewing my browser history?****

****Rosie****  
Get a stronger password than 'beignet' and then we'll talk.

Typical. 

* * *

It was nearly evening when Alastor finally caught up with his workload at the Radio Tower. He approved the interview, radio drama script, and forwarded some charity ball ideas for Charlie. The bare minimum for everything, so he could focus on other projects.

Lucifer had wanted his opinion on several murders that had happened within hours of each other. Investigating incidents that he had made was always entertaining, and it was a pleasure to watch other demons bristle as he walked into the room. Perusing the menu, as it were. But Rosie hadn't needed any new furs, and he wanted something lighter than navigating complex political webs. 

_"Beignets and research, it is, then."_ Alastor needed to read up on different kitchen appliances if he was going to try the infernal interview and cooking show, anyway. Perhaps he'd even ask the guests to eat with him, if they behaved themselves. Swallowing his saliva, the Radio Demon clocked out of work and headed toward the hotel. 

He'd meant to read up on what a microwave was, but once he was in the library, Alastor's thoughts drifted toward a dinner menu. Armed with some beignets and a glass of bourbon, Alastor considered his options. Perhaps some velvety veal, or quality pork loin? He thumbed through a book that offered a recipe for spicy mutton curry, and Alastor thought about using goat meat in some gumbo. All delicious options, but somehow didn't quite _capture_ the essence of his feelings. 

As time passed, it grew stronger, like a tsunami. Angel Dust had been busy with a client recently, and it had cut into their time together. They didn't have a... strict arrangement, but he still felt disappointed with the lack of face-to-face contact. 

Perhaps being not-so-available was part of Angel Dust's coquettish game? Alastor knew full well that whatever they had, the feeling was mutual. Angel Dust had (faithfully) made it a point to remind him that, for all intents and purposes, Alastor was very welcome to rail him six ways to Sunday. The ice block clinked against his teeth as the Radio Demon drank his bourbon.

It was a spiel he probably told everyone with a pulse, and the thought of Angel Dust copulating with people wasn't his primary concern. It was Angel Dust showing the most vulnerable pieces to someone who was _not_ Alastor. And that just wouldn't do.

The burning feeling in his heart returned, and it was getting **annoying**. This was what he hated, the few times he did feel any sort of affection. Possibly what led him to rise to Angel Dust's challenge, when he talked of being chained. 

It called other emotions to the surface. The incessant need to rise above the rest, to win, to...make sure no matter where Angel Dust went, he would leave with Alastor's flavor dancing on his tongue. 

_"But what, exactly, is that flavor..."_ Alastor thought as he stared listlessly at the fireplace, listening to the crackling. He nearly chewed through the inside of his cheek as he considered different dishes...until he landed on the perfect one.

Indeed, Alastor wanted this dinner to _mean something_.

To infuse the most feeling into a dish...he would hunt. Hunt and present Angel Dust with a dish that explained his feelings, at least. 

He needed to call Juliet.

* * *

  
Saying Angel Dust had a bad day was putting it _mildly_. The weather had turned from clear with occasional clouds to a full-on storm, and he was stuck inside the Porn Studio. Usually, he wouldn't have minded. 

But he hadn't seen, heard, or touched Alastor in three weeks. It was an itch he couldn't scratch, and it lived beneath his skin. All he wanted was to go back to the hotel and listen to the Radio Demon talk about things he didn't even understand. It hardly mattered. He just wanted a drink and good company. 

Instead, he was at work, and wasn't feeling any of it. Now, there were days when everything went well and Valentino cared enough not to hurt him. When the money was good. When it was enough for the pimp to overlook the way Angel Dust ran his mouth. The day's workload wasn't even that _hard_. Miel's gingerbread cake had more spice than what this client wanted. 

"Are ya sure about it, Daddy? Y'know I can take more than that." Mostly he knew what pleased Valentino. Asking for something rougher than what he chose usually worked, especially when Angel was feeling particularly masochistic. "Oh, I know you can, baby," Valentino said, cradling Angel Dust's cheeks with unnatural tenderness. "but this ain't about you. The client specified 'light' spanking and a creampie. Pretty basic fer ya, don'tcha think so, doll?"

Being touched by Valentino was enough to make his toes curl inside of his boots. "Sure, as long as he doesn't pull a 'surprise' tranq in my neck or impale me on anythin'..." It was enough to make Val's claws squeeze Angel's soft face and backhand him. Twice. Angel was tempted to spit on the floor but caught himself in time.

"Someone at the hotel must've gotten you thinkin' you're more than just a whore, angelcakes." His cigarette was so close to the porn star's face, Angel could almost smell the aphrodisiac, laced with morphine. "Is bein' rude and talking back to Daddy part of the redemption plan? Seems to me like you lack discipline. Princess not hitting you hard enough?"

 _"She doesn't hit me at all,"_ Angel Dust thought, but bit his lip to keep from answering, and his gold tooth shone under the heat of the studio lights. It was a charged moment, even for a regular day at the Porn Studio. Outside, rain buffeted the windows, but no one dared to say anything to Valentino. 

Whether it was the silence or seeing visual proof of his ownership on Angel Dust, something placated Valentino. It lasted long enough for him to push Angel toward another crew member, instead of throwing him at the nearest piece of furniture. "Get him dressed and cleaned up in 20. His client with a baking fetish scheduled him for tonight, but since it's rainin'...no chance in hell are we finishing that outdoor shoot now. And we all know workin' the corner ain't helping any if it rains."

Getting Angel Dust's fur nice and perfumed would take more time and money than Val was willing to spend. As Angel Dust was led away from Valentino, he breathed a sigh of relief. Small mercies. 

Seeing Miel and baking up a storm sounded pretty good. It had taken three or four lessons, but Angel Dust had successfully made some cookies without Miel's help. He doubted they were as good as Yuuko said they were. Woman loved anything sweet and topped with sugar. 

* * *

  
"Are you sure you're okay, darling?" The crew member (a gentle pink alligator) asked as she patted down Angel Dust's wounds with antiseptic. It was more because she was terrified of germs and less concerned with 'we're in hell, what else are you scared of?' 

It was so strangely _human,_ and it comforted him to know that not everyone had given up all of their previous traits, even if they were all in different skin suits. 

"Yeah. Thanks, Vesper." The antique radio in his dresser continued to play music throughout his stay, although there were times when it crackled in and out of white noise for a beat or two. The rain had let up some, making it easier to listen to the radio without raising the volume.

_Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time_   
_I feel alive and the world, it's turning inside out_   
_I'm floating around in ecstasy_   
_So don't stop me now, don't stop me_

It almost made him laugh, if he was willing to believe Alastor was talking to him through the radio waves. Luckily, he knew the next few lines of this song.

"I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva, I'm gonna go, go, go..."

_There's no stopping me!_

Vesper gestured toward the radio as she applied the last few cotton balls of solution to his face. "Weird how well y'timed that to happen, babe." 

"Yeah, one helluva coincidence, huh? Can't wait to go to my next baking lesson."

The crackle he heard through the radio, Angel Dust decided, sounded happy. "You do look forward to your weekly client. Is she as gorgeous as Val said? Owner of B.O.D.Y.?" 

"Oh, yeah. But she's...well, don't say anythin', but...she hooked me up with some recipes. Hopefully I can..." Vesper nodded in understanding. "Baby, the sooner you can get some treats in us, the sweeter life'll be."

Another burst of static, and then a gentle jazz track.

Yep. Pretty happy. 

He hated how that mattered so much to him, to know Alastor was pleased. Probably double, knowing Angel's preference, and Yuuko was a woman. The Radio Demon, jealous? Huh. He couldn't imagine it. Alastor always looked so composed, so put-together. 

What would it feel like, to have the Overlord unravel at his fingertips? He couldn't wait to visit the mythical cabin he'd only heard Alastor speak of. Angel hadn't even thought of it as a real place, until Alastor invited him to dinner. 

That and rainy days was what they shared. Angel almost felt bad for missing their routine, but Miel's baking lessons were an investment. He wanted to perfect the _sanguinaccio dolce_. If not for love, then for his pride and Italian heritage.

One way or another, Alastor would understand how he felt. Even without words. Angel Dust just needed to see his reaction, as Alastor devoured his tempestuous emotions.

* * *

  
_"Hmph. Well, you might be fine, mon ange, but someone certainly needs to pay for a slight."_

While hearing Angel Dust sing was cute, Valentino _still_ needed to pay for being rude to him. Once again, Alastor prided himself on being above it all. But there was something about Angel Dust that overrode all common sense and activated his kill switch. With his new afterlife as a demon, he sure as _hell_ wouldn't ignore an opportunity to acquire a meal.

Perhaps it was time for a test run of that cooking show segment, after all.

* * *

  
"Uh, you do know I have a pet pig, right?" Angel Dust said, looking nervously at the bag of blood Miel pulled out from a cooler. "Oh my, I'm so sorry. I should've brought cow's blood instead..." 

"Nah, it's my fault, I shoulda been more specific...just...just doesn't feel right ta cook usin' pig's blood." 

"It _is_ the classic way to cook the _dolce_ , but we don't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Yuuko moved to take the blood bag. "I'm sure some vampire or blood bank will want it." They were one of the kindest clients Angel ever had, and he was going to miss them already. 

"But...how do we do a practice run without the blood?" 

Miel pulled out a box of cornstarch and a stick of butter. "We use a thickener to get the creamy texture. It won't have that salty-sweet taste, but it'll still be decadent--especially if we use Valrhona chocolate." 

Yuuko had turned on the radio while Angel Dust heated the milk, and Miel checked the temperature using a candy thermometer. "Gently...gently...now add the cocoa powder and melt the chocolate on a bain-marie." 

_"--testing, testing. Is this thing on? Hahaha! Good evening, sinners, and thank you for tuning into this very special broadcast."_

The jazz music had given way to terrified screams and the sound of a blender in the background. Angel Dust almost dropped his stirring spoon. "That's Al!"

Though Angel had never asked Alastor what his radio tower's specific frequency was, he was certain all of the stations were Alastor's, in the end. 

_"Now, I didn't even know there were all sorts of newfangled kitchen equipment until a very kind listener sent me a few samples...let's learn together, shall we?"_

There was a muffled sort of sound--possibly sobbing or begging.

_"Please, no, I have a fa--" The voice was interrupted by the sound of a knife being sharpened._

_"Hm? I'm sure your family won't mind if you return with a bit of a limp! Now...where to cut...I've heard beautiful things can be made with a leg..."_

"Mmm, now he's talkin' my language," Angel Dust purred. Miel gently patted the side of his face with a manicured paw. Angel thought he heard an irritated huff but paid it no mind. "Focus, sweetheart. Why you want a French chef to teach you an Italian recipe, I'll never understand..."

"The guy on the radio. Al. He doesn't like many sweets. So, when I saw _sanguinaccio dolce_..." Angel Dust gestured to the radio, which was currently broadcasting the cheerful sounds of the radio host interviewing his other...guests. "I figured it was one of the things he'd try ta eat."

_"Now, which one of you isn't a smoker? My crew hasn't had lung in a while..." Protesting and arguing ensued. "This is a live broadcast, ladies and gentlemen--no need for such crude language! You seem to have less of a smoker's cough. We'll see. After the leg."_

"Ah, I see. For matters of the heart, I will overlook this insult," Miel declared, playfully turning his snout up in mock-offense. "Even if French dishes are richer in flavor." Angel Dust nearly kissed Miel's cheek, but the aura his wife gave off was mildly frightening. He settled for patting his old friend on the back and heard knitting needles soon after. 

_"Did you favor your left or right leg?" Alastor's voice asked, gleefully. The frightened creature next to him mumbled something. "Right? Oh! Then we'll just have your left leg for dinner."_

_"...you want me to eat myself before I die?"_

_"If you're against that, I'll let your friend eat you before he dies."_ There was a chorus of screaming--there were probably two or three demons with Alastor. While the screams started out strong, eventually it slowly faded into silence, as his captors got tired or died--Angel couldn't really tell without visuals.

 _"Ah, at last. They've gone quiet. Now, it's time to work..."_ There was a sharp cutting noise, which gave way to a pleasant humming. Alastor was probably inspecting the leg _._

_"Hmm...let's see how long it'll take to cook your leg with the Instant Pot, to start. Let's cut it into sizable portions...I'll use a pound..." A demon sobbed._

_"Why is he fucking butterflyin' yer leg like it's roast beef?"_

_"Because, my good fellow, it'll be easier for all of us to consume! Now, 450 grams in the pot...twenty minutes? Such innovation!"_

Angel Dust looked at Miel. "...can you even do that? Cook a leg in an Instant Pot?" The poodle gazed at his own Instant Pot, gleaming in a corner. "Well...theoretically, yes? He sliced it into smaller portions, and...Yuuko throws rice and chicken thighs in there, and it cooks beautifully tender--oh! It'll burn! Angel, take the chocolate off the stove!"

The spider lifted the glass bowl using a pair of oven mitts and placed it out of the way as he turned the stove off. Miel inspected the chocolate and nodded. "Just in time. See how beautiful it looks?" The dark chocolate pieces had melted into a glossy river. Miel took the warm milk and carefully added cornstarch in it and the dark chocolate. 

It was like magic, the way the mixture slowly thickened into a custard-like pudding. The last step was serving it inside a hollowed-out orange rind. "And that is how you make _sanguinaccio dolce_...without the blood. If you know a butcher with access to fresh blood, we can make it the traditional way." 

Angel thought about Alastor's note. A sheep and a meat shop. "I do. Give me half an hour, Miel. I'll see if she can get me some cow's blood." He paused to grab an umbrella by the door, but Yuuko had thrown a set of car keys at Miel, who nodded.

"Let's take the car. It'll be faster."

The last thing Angel Dust heard on the radio was Alastor, happy with how soft and succulent the meat had become. _"Why, it's as if I let it roast in the oven for more than two hours! Such efficiency...I just might use it regularly."_

* * *

  
The radio broadcast had gotten a lot of fans from the Cannibal sector, and the crew was delighted to feast on Alastor's cooking. Pleased with the success, the Radio Demon visited Carne et Vino to ask Juliet about her opinion for meat.

Planning a dinner date wasn't supposed to be _this_ stressful.

* * *

"Sir, if I may make a suggestion," Juliet said, her concern for the floor mounting every minute Alastor paced back and forth. He had been moving so quickly, she was surprised his shoes hadn't left scorch marks on the varnished wood. "Instead of ruining the expensive flooring you paid for, take this."

She placed a long rectangle of white silk on the counter, where a long boning knife rested. The blade's edge was permanently stained with small drops of blood. No matter how often Juliet cleaned it, the scent of acorns, berries, and fruit clung to the steel. It made her feel melancholic--but she'd followed the last of Cianti's rules that made sense.

 _"If you use one knife on a doe, don't mix it with other animal parts."_ Hell's knives got stronger with every kill, but the blade grew dull faster if it was used to cut into animals of different species. It was the reason why she and the other huntresses used specific knives depending on what meat they had procured that day. 

Whether it was a superstition or had some grain of truth, Juliet had stuck to the rule, and Alastor's feet paused in their pacing. Immediately, he walked toward the counter, looking down at the boning knife. 

"Is this--"

"Yes," Juliet replied, bowing her head in apology for cutting him off. "the knife I used to fulfill your request." It was, regrettably, one of the few topics that ensured she had Alastor's full attention. The sheep demon considered her next few words, aware of the very real consequences of saying something wrong. "Perhaps whomever has occupied your thoughts would appreciate meat with...a bit of heart." She implied that he went hunting for meat of the same caliber, but her words inspired other thoughts.

"I'd almost forgotten how _well-tuned_ your senses are, my dear." She looked like she wanted to say something else. _"It's powerful, honestly."_ Juliet thought, knowing whatever was on her mind, he would hear. 

_"The scent of cold moonlight and ecstasy, mixed with longing and chicory coffee."_ The sheep demon wondered why Angel Dust smelled this way. Alastor certainly brought back enough stories about his noise, exuberance, and passion for his craft.

So why moonlight?

"Come now," Alastor said smoothly, using the end of his microphone's staff to lift her chin up. Her black eyes stared into his burning red ones. Juliet's brows furrowed. "What truth is on the tip of your tongue?"

 _"It'd be easier on us all if the Radio Demon carved his own heart out and presented it to his paramour."_ She was aware that even her thoughts weren't her own anymore. Juliet lost that the day she made the deal. Instead of the anger and violence she had come to expect from Cianti, however, she heard a laugh track from a radio. Instead of feeling relieved, a hot shiver crawled down her back and wriggled into her spine.

Alastor was **laughing.**

The Radio Demon snatched the knife's black handle and thrust the blade toward her, the tip landing squarely on Juliet's heart. From where Juliet was standing, it simply looked like an extension of Alastor's hand. Somewhere, deep in her soul, she wondered _what exactly_ he had done in his mortal life. Her heart rate picked up and the herbivore senses in her just wanted to _run_.

But she fought against it and stood still, though her ears were lowered, and a whimper passed through her lips. He might not have beaten her like Cianti did, but **this** was a different kind of torture.

_"Trade one bad deal for another?" Alastor had repeated that night at the bar. "How perfectly eloquent. Procure something for me and prove your resolve. Then I will grant your wish."_

"Like you, my dear Juliet," Alastor murmured, "I understand the importance of a good hunt. But I doubt my rust-covered heart would be a good meal." He prodded the knife in a bit further and watched the red bloom on her uniform. Satisfied, Alastor twirled the knife in his hand and gazed at the blade with appreciation. "This will never be as clean as the first time," he said, looking at his reflection in the gleaming steel. His eyes were one of mirth and danger, glowing red beneath the shop lights. 

"I do believe you are on the right track, however. Open the way to the surface, dear,” the Radio Demon whispered, the transatlantic accent giving way to a smoother voice, one as rich as Valrhona chocolate. "A fresh heart would be the perfect gift...and I do need to demonstrate my dedication, _ma petite biche._ " 

Juliet bit her lip before nodding. She rolled up her left sleeve and sliced through the X on her vein. Closing her eyes, the sheep demon used her bleeding arm to tear through the space between herself and the counter, in front of Alastor. One of her favorite Topside hunting grounds.

He let the moment drag on for a few seconds, serenely listening to the drip, drip, dripping of Juliet's blood onto the floor, and her shaky breaths as she fought to keep herself standing.

She hadn't backed down when she was alive, and she sure as _hell_ wouldn't do so now. "You've changed much since then, haven't you, little lamb?" Alastor murmured, grin as wide as it was evil. "One could say your parents' deaths did you a favor." 

Before she could ask him how he knew that the deer demon stepped through the portal. The last thing Juliet saw before the portal closed was a small, black-tipped tail, wagging impudently. The sheep demon stood alone in the shop, the floor behind the counter stained with the droplets of her own blood. As her wound stitched itself back together, she sank down toward the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. 

The night the Hunter of New Orleans broke into her home _had_ changed her life forever. And now here she was, working for him. "Oh, I don't kill orphans," she'd heard his voice, arrogant and proud. "I just create them."

 _"It was the right thing to do. Cianti would have killed me thrice over if I hadn't asked Alastor for help."_ She had no doubt in her heart that it was true. 

But it didn't make him any less of a bastard.

* * *

  
Juliet had bandaged her arm and was mopping the floor when the brass bell rang. In strode two breathtaking demons: a black-haired poodle looked at her from beneath a wide-brimmed hat, and a pink and white spider--Angel Dust. The sheep demon lifted her head and closed her eyes, taking in their smell. 

Beneath Angel's usual scent was an underlying musk--Alastor. "Ah, welcome," she greeted, putting the mop away. "I'm Juliet, owner of Carne et Vino. What can I get for you today?"

"Do ya have some cow's blood?" Angel Dust inquired. The closer he got, the stronger Alastor's scent became. It was a unique combination--the scent of desire and moonlight intertwined with longing and violence.

"Fresh?" Juliet asked, her hands gripping the mop tighter than necessary. She was already feeling a little dizzy.

"Preferably," the poodle demon said, stepping in front of Angel. Immediately, the scent was replaced with sugar and freshly baked bread. "Thank you," Juliet whispered, bowing slightly. She could breathe normally again.

"It leaks out, doesn't it?" Miel asked. A short nod. As a poodle, he definitely understood her. "Hopefully, it'll be resolved soon." The sheep demon felt giddy at the thought. So even the infamous Radio Demon wasn't completely invincible to the feeling. 

She raised her voice so Angel could hear. "I believe we have extras, after the vampire coven cancelled an order for tonight."

"I-it's warm?" Angel asked. The sheep demon nodded. "My master--and my pride--wouldn't allow us to sell anything less. We usually butcher the meat in the morning."

"Two bags," the poodle demon said. "Cow's blood for both, one liter." 

"What for?"

" _Sanguinaccio dolce_." The dish rolled off of Angel Dust's tongue. The sheep demon looked absolutely delighted. "Oh, how wonderful. My mother used to make sweets with blood as well. Fritters with nuts and honey." She may have been a meek-looking sheep, but when talking about meat, a certain calm washed over her. It was strangely pleasant and unnerving at the same time.

"One moment." Juliet disappeared through a door that read 'Kill Floor.' Angel and Miel thought they heard excited chatter in the back, and a bird whistling. When Juliet reappeared, she held two bags of bright-red blood, one in each arm. "Drained from the last cow we butchered today. Do you need a bag or a cooler?"

The spider looked at Miel, bewildered. "Bag. I live nearby. It's best used within the day, isn't it?"

"Yes," Juliet said as she rang up their purchase. "Most customers prefer pig's blood. It's sweeter, but everyone has their preferences." She noted the way Angel paled at the thought--he must have cared for a pig or two.

She dropped two business cards into the tote bag before she handed it to Angel Dust. Miel pulled out his wallet and paid for the blood, and that was that. Juliet had one more question. "Will you be giving the _dolce_ to someone special?" 

The sheep demon already knew, but it was nice to have confirmation. Seeing the spider's fur fluff and his cheeks turn a dark pink was cute. Kind of like a rare cut of beef. Juliet wrapped another order in butcher paper. "There's an old tale one of our huntresses shared, about someone who used a quarter of their own blood to flavor a dish. But..." her fingers tied the package in twine before she returned it to the glass case. 

"Purchasing quality ingredients for your beloved to enjoy is equally fantastic." 

Angel Dust was appalled at the thought. "Won't it..taste weird if ya mix different species in one dish?" The sheep demon bowed a little before smiling at him. "That's the belief, yes. Especially for custard. Thank you for your patronage, and I hope to see you again, Mister...?"

"Miel." The poodle demon said as he dropped a business card into the fishbowl near the cash register. "My wife and I own a bakeshop in the Lust sector." 

"You probably already know," Angel said pointedly, and Juliet smiled. "I do. But not because of your films, Angel Dust. My master has said much about you." 

"Oh yeah? What's Al been telling ya?"

"That...you're very fascinating. There's a hunger in his eyes, when he talks about you. I imagine just seeing you satisfies him." 

Angel really didn't know what to say. "Uh...w-why hasn't he ever said anythin' out loud?" The sheep demon turned her head and gazed outside. The late afternoon sun was setting, and there were still a few raindrops clinging to the window. "Sometimes what we don't say is more important than what we do."

* * *

Angel Dust yawned as he finally entered his room. Pentagram City was waking up and that meant the spider was due to rest. His last baking lesson with Miel had ended much later than he expected, and Yuuko gave him a generous tip. "We'll pay for your services again after preparations for the Valentine season." 

He sincerely couldn't wait and promised to tell them how his dinner with Alastor went. The next day was his day off--which meant he had all the time in the world to sleep. In his haste to go to bed, Angel Dust stepped on an envelope. "What's this...?"

_"I'm hosting a dinner party, and you're the guest of honor. Knock on my door around nine in the evening."_

The porn star was holding a formal invitation. "What a fuckin' dork," he said, smiling despite his words. He took a photo to send to his friends later. "Who the hell writes one of these?" 

(Still, Angel chose his outfit carefully.)

* * *

The porn star checked himself out one last time. After helping out at the hotel, Charlie and Vaggie agreed to help him get ready for a special client. Charlie plaited one of his favorite wigs into a fishtail braid, and when she reached her hand out for a ribbon, Angel gave her an elastic and a chrysanthemum hairclip. 

"Aww, you're gonna look so good, Angel! I don't really get it though--some of your patrons pay you just to have dinner? That's all?"

"Yeah, everyone has different kinks. Last month I had a couple who just wanted ta see me bake n'shit. As long as I get paid, I don't much care what gets 'em off." Vaggie had been rifling through Angel Dust's closet and appeared with a low-cut red velvet top. 

"Why does this one have sleeves for only one pair of arms?" 

Angel looked at the top fondly. "One of the firs' outfits I bought with my first check. Ain't made for spiders, but it was so cute, I just had to have it." He tucked in his secondary pair of arms to demonstrate. 

He paired the top with a leather skirt and jacket. "Never enough occasions to wear these," he explained. "Mostly like me in 'easy access' shit. They hate this," he gestured to the skirt, which had a long zipper at the back. "Cause I still have to unzip."

"I'm glad you get better clients nowadays," Charlie said. It was a far cry from how she used to feel about his occupation. "Me too, toots. Thanks for negotiatin' with Valentino."

He blew them a kiss (which Vaggie chopped with one of her hands) and they went their separate ways. Angel Dust lightly rapped his knuckles on Alastor's door. "Hey Smiles? It's me."

"Come in, darling--what's that?" At Angel Dust's feet was a red cooler. "Oh, ingredients. Yer cookin' dinner, so I'll make ya dessert. I've learned a lot from my client last month."

"But I'm--" The spider pouted, hands on his hips. "Look, I even sourced the blood myself, so the least ya can do is taste it."  
At the sound of 'blood,' Alastor's entire mood changed. "A dessert with _blood_? I'd be more than delighted to share it with ya, cher."

"Of course, ya would, fuckin' sadist." Angel smiled as he said so though, and Alastor snapped his fingers. His tentacles grabbed the cooler and promptly disappeared. "Hey, where'd ya--"

"Cabin. Let's go, _mon ange_." 

"Ya know," Angel Dust muttered as he was pulled inside. "Ya really gotta explain ta me what the fuck yer callin' me, babe." 

"Simply what you are: an angel. My angel." 

If Alastor didn't want Angel Dust to fall in love with him, he was doing a piss-poor job. 

* * *

Alastor's cabin, it turned out, was accessible through his broom closet. He'd thought the Radio Demon had officially lost his mind when he knocked in a specific pattern. "Why are ya knockin' on yer own broom closet?"

Alastor turned to him and said simply, "Well, Gertrude prefers I knock." 

"Who's--" The door clicked open and instead of a regular broom closet, Angel Dust saw Alastor's version of the bayou. It was a dark swamp, thick with cypress trees that almost blocked out the full moon. 

Almost.

They'd hardly taken a few steps when they saw a massive red alligator wearing a fedora. She yawned, revealing sharp, sharp teeth. "Gertrude." 

"You have an _alligator_?" 

"She's more of a guardian. Was a fledglin' when I dropped down here, an' Gertrude made sure I lived past my first Extermination. Now she's just...retired." The alligator slowly opened her eyes and looked at Angel Dust. She snapped her jaws once and slid, graceful as could be, into the black water of the swamp. 

Fireflies and the moon lit the way toward the cabin. It was a large structure, made of beautiful polished wood. "Christ, Al, this is gorgeous." Alastor opened the door and smiled. 

"Didn't I say ya were my guest of honor?"

* * *

Angel Dust waited in the dining room as Alastor prepared dinner. It was warm and domestic--hearing the jazz music filtering from the Radio Demon alongside the sound of chopping and frying. 

In the kitchen, Alastor felt most at home rinsing a plump and fresh deer heart. He'd already let it soak in salt water overnight to remove the metallic taste. While he loved nothing more than to bite into the organ, raw and bloody, this was going to be for another person. 

So, he decided to cook it right. The way his mother used to. He'd considered cooking the backstraps, but something told him this was the right way to go. And when it came to cooking, Alastor considered it a spiritual experience--he barely measured anything and just allowed his skills to prepare and present the meat.

After carefully trimming and cutting away the connective tissue, the deer demon sliced the meat into bite-sized chunks. "After this," he murmured, "I doubt he'll ever want to eat regular nuggets again."

* * *

  
Alastor presented a dish cut up into bite-sized pieces and covered in breadcrumbs. It vaguely looked like chicken nuggets and not one piece looked tough. There was a thick sauce on the side that smelled of spices and sin. "Breaded and deep-fried deer heart, with buttermilk gravy. I might have added some cracked pepper, for a kick." 

"Won't it taste like a mouthful of blood, Smiles?" The Radio Demon shook his head. "I wouldn't treat ya so carelessly, cher. It won't taste like heart at all." 

He'd never thought about eating offal before Al. It had been a rare treat for Angel to hear how precise and careful Alastor was in the kitchen, and how much he enjoyed preparing meat. 

" _Maman_ used to say that we'd honor every part of the deer by makin' sure none of her went to waste." 

Angel Dust didn't even know how to process that, let alone reply. So, he just grabbed his plate, put a few pieces on it, and chewed. If Al hadn't told him it was made from deer heart, he never would've known. It tasted more like beef tenderloin. The outside was crispy from the breadcrumbs and the meat was soft, without any hint of iron or gaminess.

"Damn, Smiles." It really did feel like Alastor had carved his own heart out and trusted Angel not to break it. The tenderness pulled at his heart and the spider blinked back tears.

Talk about eating your feelings. 

"I... how long've you felt like this?" 

_For me?_ he wanted to add, as Alastor poured him a glass of merlot. "Ever since we ate dinner in the library," he explained, a leather-gloved claw gently wiping Angel’s tears away. "Feelings are...sticky things, even in hell, aren't they?" 

"Yer tellin' me babe. I've been runnin' away from the damn things ever since I started doin' porn." Angel ate another bite and sighed with happiness. "But if it tasted like this? I might've gotten an appetite for hearts much sooner."

When Angel had eaten his fill, he pushed his empty plate forward and declared, "My turn."

"Do ya mind if I watch?" Alastor asked as he drained his second glass of wine. "Hey, it's your house, stud." He prayed he learned enough from Miel and was glad he saved the recipe onto his phone.

Just in case.

* * *

  
Cooking for a cannibal was one of the most stressful things Angel had ever done, and _that_ was saying something. Seated on the kitchen island, Alastor observed as Angel pulled out a liter of cow's blood from the cooler. "That from my shop?" 

The spider rolled his eyes. "You know it is, baby. Neva knew cow blood could be this bright." He and Miel had made it twice, but there was still something _creepy_ about heating up a pot of thick, red blood. Angel Dust added the milk little by little. "We're usin' almond milk, easier on the stomach. Do you mind?"

Alastor shook his head. "Not at all, cher. You're the chef. I'm only here to eat what you make." The smell was unmistakably appealing, and he was already excited for the results. 

The spider added some sugar and dark chocolate and watched in awe as the mixture darkened from red to a brown so deep it was almost black. As he stirred, the chocolate melted, and the blood thickened into a luscious pudding. Angel thought about how hard he'd worked to practice all the dishes Miel taught him and hoped Alastor would at least _try_ this one. 

_"I mean...it's got blood in it, so he's bound to like it...right?"_ He was about to take it off the stove when he realized he'd forgotten something. "Shit. Hey Al?"

"Yes?" 

"Could you hand me the oranges from the cooler? And the cinnamon sticks?" The last step was to hollow out the orange and pour the custard in. Angel Dust tossed the fruit in the air and caught it, his knife slicing through it with ease. "You really love yer kitchen, don'tcha?" 

Alastor's eyes gazed at Angel Dust from his place on the counter. "Like a lover. Though, it used to be much simpler. Then I started receiving...a lot of equipment. Did you hear my broadcast?"

"All the stations had your broadcast on, sugar." 

"That wasn't what I asked." 

"Yeah, yeah we did. I almost burned the chocolate the first time. You really know how to make a guy hungry. Is it gonna be a regular thing?"

The deer demon shrugged his shoulders. "As long as there are rude demons, and I haven't tested all the kitchen equipment. I've recently received...something called a dehydrator? An intern said I could use it to make jerky..."

"Whoever yer admirer is, Smiles, they really want ya to become a pro." There was a bit of bitterness in his voice, and the spider tried to reign in his emotions. "Lucifer Magne has **odd** ways of thanking his daughter's co-financier. Keeps insisting I can save time with his gifts. I just...prefer to use what's familiar. Though..." 

Alastor waved a hand and a cupboard opened, with a stand mixer and various baking molds still wrapped in their boxes. He even saw a waffle and donut maker. "I have no desire to bake. Perhaps you could come onto my show sometime?"

"Mmm? What do I get in return?" Angel Dust was teasing, and Alastor purred back, "that depends on how delicious that puddin' is, cher."

* * *

  
The chocolate pudding was served inside the orange rinds, with a stick of cinnamon. " _Sanguinaccio dolce_ , made with cow's blood. Hope you enjoy, Al." Angel Dust's hand was trembling as he dipped his spoon into his own dessert. 

It had set beautifully, and the pudding was almost black, which contrasted well with the orange rind and the cinnamon stick. Miel had suggested 72% dark chocolate, and with one bite, he could understand why. There was a lot of sugar, but it had been needed to balance the saltiness of the blood. Cornstarch had nothing on it--the traditional _dolce_ had a slightly metallic taste. Enough to tease, but not enough to be unpleasant. 

Angel was thrilled that it had been a rousing success. He looked up when he heard the clatter of a spoon--Alastor had dropped it after one bite. 

Angel Dust feared the worst.

"A... what’s wrong, Smiles?" 

"...it's just...I never expected..." The spider cocked his head to one side. " _What?_ Hon, I talk about wantin' ya to bed me every other week. What's so surprisin'?" 

"That's banter! This is..." Alastor felt overwhelmed with how much joy, longing, desire, and the slightest bit of melancholy was neatly layered in the pudding. Besides tasting phenomenal, the feelings within gave it a unique quality. One Alastor knew he wanted to taste, time and time again. 

Without another word, the deer demon continued to eat until the pudding was gone. It was a trade, of sorts--blood for blood, filled with their feelings for each other. The depth and mutuality of it all; that was what neither expected.

"I thought Valentino didn't allow you to have relationships?" 

The spider nodded. "Yeah, he doesn't want it to fuck with work. But ya ain't part of the porn industry. Even if we stopped datin', the consequences...wouldn't be severe, to him." 

_"But it would end me."_ he couldn't voice it, but he knew he didn't need to. In truth, the weird obsession Valentino had with him was an even bigger problem than Angel finding someone to love. But that was...probably best left for another time. And anyway--the look on Al's face was enough to reassure him. That, and the feelings he experienced while eating the deer heart.

Angel Dust pushed all of his metaphorical chips onto the table, heart included. "So... what’s yer answer, Al? I think I've expressed my feelings for ya...twice now?"

Alastor's gaze rendered him boneless. It was dark and filled with an emotion he had yet to identify. After a long while, the Radio Demon reached out and ran the back of his hand across Angel Dust's soft cheek. 

"I... feel so deeply for you, I could eat you alive, cher."

Angel Dust's breath hitched. "But...you ain't gonna, right?"

"No. No, you're more than a meal to me, Angel."

And:

"I'm sorry it took me so long to reply." 

The porn star took Alastor's hand and kissed each fingertip. "I guess ya ain't so perfect after all." The deer reached over and traced his index finger across Angel Dust's collar. "Neither are you, but that hardly matters, dear." He felt the spider swallow and a rush of euphoria coursed through his veins. 

But the moment still felt incomplete, somehow.

"Darling?"

The spider returned his gaze, questioning and shy. "Yes?" 

"I love you."

Alastor was vaguely aware of Angel Dust getting up from the table, but the world was reduced to white noise as the spider cupped his face and kissed him fiercely. 

_"Me too, Alastor."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ma petit biche = my little lamb  
> 2\. Miel looks like a shiny Furfrou with the Debutante Trim.  
> 3\. Chapter title is a lyric translated to English from Full Course for Candy Addicts, by Machigerita-P. Bit dark. (Has references to cannibalism and gore, but also candy)  
> 4\. Alastor's Tunes are the Post Modern Jukebox versions of Don't Stop Me Now and Creep.  
> 5\. Miel's shop is named after a song from VIXX, one of my favorite K-pop bands.  
> 6\. I credit the idea of Alastor's biology rebelling against his thoughts to purp's fic [Choke (Yourself to Sleep)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877861/chapters/60189826) because...I first read about it there, and it lives in my head rent-free.  
> 7\. I took a second job to (hopefully) speed up my dream of becoming a full-time freelancer, so this might be my last story for awhile. Just until I get my bearings.  
> 8\. The part about Alastor overlaying his own scars on top of Angel Dust's is a reference/inspired by [On My Way to Easy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28160589/chapters/69003312) by [stratumgermanitivum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum) and [whiskeyandspite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite) ❤️ they make such wonderful stories for Hazbin Hotel and Hannibal. <3 100% recommend their stuff.  
> 


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